


By Contrast with the Love

by petpluto



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 3, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Post Season/Series 02, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 47
Words: 81,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petpluto/pseuds/petpluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith dies. Logan works to pick up the pieces left in the wake of Cassidy's destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Never were, aren't, and never will be mine.
> 
> Title from Emily Dickinson's poem, I Measure Every Grief I Meet (http://www.shortpoems.org/emily_dickinson/measure_every_grief.html)
> 
> Any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com

Within 24 hours, they are both without fathers. Logan moves fast, at first. He gets his father’s attorneys on the phone, tells them they’ll be handling the finer points of his father’s estate and last will and testament, but the priority is Keith Mars. He goes into parts of Veronica’s home he’s never been invited to, because Veronica can’t - shouldn’t have to - handle doing it herself and these things are time sensitive.

He finds the death boxes underneath Padres memorabilia. Three boxes, each neatly labelled with their creators’ names. He sees Keith’s, but it’s Veronica’s he is drawn to. He opens it, and finds lists. What she wants to be buried in. What she wants buried with her. A mix of songs she wants playing. A list of people not to come. He’s pleased to see his name is not on the list. He’s surprised to see that Duncan’s name once was, before it was scratched off.

“It was when I got so fed up with the fact he wouldn’t speak to me,” Veronica offers from her perch at the door frame, directly over his shoulder.

He startles. “I’m sorry. It’s not really any of my business.”

“Sure it is. I think I’ve uncovered enough of your secrets that you can see some of my own.”

He nods. “I remember when you decided that we all needed one of these,” he tells her, gesturing to the box. “Right after Lilly.”

“And Duncan wouldn’t hear of it,” she reminisces with him. “But you did. You told me you were going to go home and make one that night.”

He remembers that day. It wasn’t the day of Lilly’s funeral. It was a day or so later, when the grief was overwhelming and the fractures in their friendship were being ignored. “You were so upset with everything.”

“Well, Lilly would have hated the dress Celeste picked. And the photos in the collage she decided on.”

“And the song we took her casket out to. Yeah, I know.” He gingerly puts her intentions back in the box. “I kept mine, you know. It burned down with the rest of my stuff, but I made sure it was up to date. Even when we weren’t - even when I was a bastard to you.”

“Thank you. For this. Truly, Logan, I don’t know what I would be doing without you.” She shuffles into the room. She doesn’t cry. The tears are there, but she won’t let them fall. She looks around this room - his room - and trembles. “It hurts just being in here.”

“Then don’t.” He takes her by the shoulders, and gently leads her out. “I can get this started. I can - let me do this for you.”

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, handling your dad’s stuff?” Her voice cracks, and the tears she’s been holding back for about five minutes launch their assault down her face.

He shakes his head. “First, we’re dealing with your dad. The actual good parent. I’ve got people handling a lot of Aaron’s estate right now. They don’t need me. And when they do, I’ll tell them to take a hike. You’re more important.”

“I’m just - I’m so tired,” she tells him. He leads her out to the couch. She doesn’t sleep alone in her bed any more, and he needs to work for a while before he can snuggle with her. The couch is where she can sleep without immediately dreaming.

“Rest.” He pushes he gently down, arranges her under a blanket. Kisses her forehead. “I’m taking care of it.”

He watches her slip into sleep, and collects Keith’s box from his bedroom. When he opens it, he finds that Veronica’s dad was just as diligent in keeping his box up to date as Logan himself was. As Veronica is. There’s a copy of his most recent will, and he finds a key to a safe deposit box. He looks at pictures of Veronica and her dad that Mr. Mars wanted included. Finds a list of important documents that are in his safe, among them being a life insurance policy. And he finds envelopes - letters. For Veronica, but also for what looks like Wallace’s mom. For Cliff McCormick. For people he doesn’t know, and hopes Veronica does. He even sees one for Veronica’s mom. He puts them down.

When Veronica wakes up, he asks if she’s able to go with him to the office. She asks why, and he shows her the list. 

“They’re not in that safe,” she tells him. “That safe is for client files, for active cases he has going. And stuff he didn’t want me to see. This safe is in his closet.” She closes her eyes. “I think Cliff has the combination.”

He nods, and goes to call Cliff. 

“What are you doing?” the lawyer asks him.

“I’m doing what needs to get done.”

Cliff sighs. “Kid...”

“Veronica can’t do this by herself,” he tells the older man. “I know she’s strong. I know she’s capable. But I’m not letting her be strong or capable right now. She has to be able to lean on someone.” 

“I’ll be over in a little while,” he tells Logan. “It’s probably good for Vee that you’re doing the heavy lifting. I’m surprised she’s letting you.”

“I didn’t really give her a choice,” he replies, and hangs up. He walks back out to the living room, and sees Wallace sitting on the couch, with Veronica curled against him. 

It stings, seeing her taking comfort from someone else. He’s glad she is, glad she can, glad Wallace is here to give it. He’s not going to lie, a part of him rails against it. A deep, twisted part of himself that’s not actually so deep down wants it to be them against the world. Them, standing together. Have the only thing one can rely on be the other. But the part of him that he’s worked so hard to cultivate knows that isn’t healthy. And what he wants more for Veronica than anything else, aside from her father not being dead, is for her to be healthy.

So, he nods at Wallace, and asks Veronica if she wants anything in particular to eat. She shakes her head. “Not hungry.”

He sighs. He’s so used to Veronica being strong, or playing strong, that he’s occasionally completely befuddled by this creature before him. He wants to grab her, shake her, make her come back to being Veronica for him. Her lip trembles, and he’s lost again. 

“Baby,” he tells her, “you have to eat something.”

Wallace nods. “Yeah, Vee, we can’t have you wasting away.”

She looks so miserable there, in this living room, with the essence of her father still hovering all around them. He wants to scoop her up and run her to some place on earth where she won’t hurt. But all he has at the moment is a suite at the Grande, and that seems like pulling her from the fire only to force her into a river of lava. He looks at Wallace, who just looks haplessly back at him. 

It’s strange, he thinks, how at the end of the day, all the tragedies that came before did nothing to inoculate them to the tragedies that keep befalling them. It’s strange how all the tragedies that have come before haven’t made them experts in the art of dealing.

“I’m ordering manicotti, and lasagna. Wallace, you staying to eat?”

“Yeah, you know, if Veronica wants me to.” Veronica doesn’t have a positive or negative reaction to that. She just stares into space.

“She wants you to,” Logan decides for her. “What will you have?”

“I’ll have a calzone.”

“Done.”

With the food ordered, all there is to do is to sit. He does, and has nothing to say. There’s nothing to say, and he knows Wallace feels it too. It feels like the three of them are stuck in limbo. Or maybe purgatory. It isn't hell, but it feels like they're one door away from being there. He looks at Veronica, and reassesses. 

He and Wallace aren't in hell, but she is. When Lynn died, after he knew she died, he thinks he had the same hell. A hell built on could haves and should haves. Words left unsaid. Tiny actions that could have altered the events. He's still there, some days. On the bad days. He hasn't fully climbed out of it yet. He thinks about how this is just one more club he and Veronica belong to, together. The 'Parents Dead by Unnatural Means' club added to the roster of 'Friend/Girlfriend Being Murdered' club and the 'Knowledge of Parental Infidelity' club and the 'Kids of Mothers with Substance Abuse Problems' club. He doesn't offer his observations to anyone else in the room. Just sits there, and waits.


	2. Chapter 2

When Cliff comes, he lets himself in to the sight of three teens sitting in the dark. He shakes his head, and heads back to the safe. He hands Logan the documents; tells Veronica what he’s done. Veronica looks like someone has woken her from a dream. She just nods at him. It surprises Logan when Cliff pulls her in for a hug.

“Listen, Vee, whatever you need, don’t hesitate to call and ask.”

She tears up again, and clings to him for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon, kiddo.” He turns to Logan, asks for Logan to walk him out. Once they’re outside of the apartment, he just says, “Take care of her.”

Logan nods. “I’m doing my best.”

“Yeah, listen, kid. Don’t take this the wrong way. But sometimes your best isn’t going to be good enough.” Logan bristles, and Cliff sees it. “I’m not saying that about you, specifically. I’m talking in these kinds of situations. She may need help that you can’t give her.”

“You mean, like professional help.”

Cliff smiles. “Exactly. And I’m telling you this, because I think you’re going to be the person who has the best shot of getting her there, if she needs it.”

“If she doesn’t want to go, I’m not making her.”

The older man shrugs. “If she doesn’t want to go, you can’t. But maybe you could mention it as a possibility. You catch my drift?”

“Yeah.” He looks at the apartment. “I should get back.”

Cliff waves him off. “Yeah. Keep me updated.”

The idea of having an adult in the mix sounds foreign to Logan. It’s been such a long time since he’s had one, and an even longer time since he depended on one. Adults, in his experience, are weak, or corrupt, or cruel. The only ones who aren’t are the ones who haven’t shown their true spots yet. But Veronica trusts Cliff. And Cliff seems to care for Veronica. So he nods.

He meets the delivery guy at the door, pays him for dinner, and enters Veronica’s place. He and Wallace put out the food, and Veronica eats some of it. At the end of the subdued meal, she stands up. 

“My head hurts,” she tells Logan.

“Hurts, how?” 

“It feels like it’s too big. It’s so heavy.” She falters, and Wallace snags her before she can fall. “I’m just - I hurt all over, and I feel numb at the same time.”

He pulls her to him, away from Wallace. “I’m sorry, Ronica. I’m so sorry.”

She sobs into his chest again. He holds her tightly against him until she tires herself out. 

After he returns her to the couch, he and Wallace sit together in the kitchen. 

“I wish I knew how to help her,” Wallace quietly tells him. “The entire time we’ve been friends, she’s been rock solid. I even wanted her to be a little more open. More emotional. But this... ...I just want to make it better.”

“There’s no way to make it better,” Logan tells him. “And I don’t know how to help her either.”

“But you’re doing it, man,” Wallace replies. “You’re here. You’re taking care of business and working on putting her back together. I’m her best friend, and I don’t have a clue. You, you’ve got like a Vulcan mind meld with the girl or something.”

“Or something,” Logan says. “I’m floundering. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He pauses. “Can you do me a favor?”

Wallace looks skeptical, but says, “Sure.”

“First, I need you to give this to your mom.” Logan hands Wallace the letter from the death box. “Tell her that I don’t know when it was written, but it’s something he wanted her to have.”

Wallace takes the letter. “Yeah, of course.”

“The second thing I need you to do is to stay with her for a little while tomorrow. Let me know how she’s doing. I’ve got to go to the funeral home for Aaron, so I figure if she’s up to it, you can bring her around and we can finalize some things for her dad too.”

Wallace looks a little lighter. “I can do that. I can be here. I should get going, though. My mom is freaking out right now. I swear, she has it half in her head to move out of Neptune.”

Logan smirks at that; but after Wallace leaves, he thinks about it. He could leave. He could gather Veronica up, and they could go. Sure, they were both supposed to go to Hearst in the fall, but they could take a year off. They could apply to other schools. They could get out of this town, and away from everything it had taken from them. He’s fantasizing about it, about Veronica in Rome, Veronica in Paris, Veronica in Bath, Veronica in a cozy bed & breakfast they run Newhart style in Vermont, when he stops himself short. She would never leave. There’s nothing keeping them here but ghosts and the sense that this is their home, and he knows she feels that pull stronger than possibly anyone else.

She could have gone to Pan, after Lilly’s death. She didn’t, because Neptune was her home, and Neptune High was her school. Veronica is a fighter. That’s who her father raised her to be, and who he helped mold her into when he was too busy lashing out and cutting her down to recognize that she was hurting as much as he was. Instead of fantasizing about the life they could have if they left Neptune, then, he decides to plan out the life he can make for them after this week is over. It seems like the safer plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Keith’s funeral is first. It is a smallish affair. Veronica wanted it that way, so he made sure that it was. There’s no body to bury, nothing found yet, so they stand awkwardly around a picture of the man. Veronica is holding onto him. He sees Wallace and his mom and Wallace’s little brother close by. Mrs. Fennel is sobbing. Wallace looks devastated. His little brother looks startled and like he can’t quite figure out what has happened to his life. Logan sympathizes. 

Mac is there, too, standing by Wallace. She looks like she might fall over. Mr. Mars didn’t have any instruction for the service beyond that there were to be no flower arrangements, no dirges, and that he absolutely did not want to be cremated. He hid that part from Veronica. He thinks she knows anyway.

It is Cliff who speaks first. He talks about Mr. Mars’ belief in a universal justice. He talks about how he was always in pursuit of the truth. How he ran his business with the philosophy that the truth empowers those who choose to seek it, and that the light is always better than the darkness. He talks about a pragmatic man, but one who had his own set of ethics. Logan is listening, hearing, but not really catching any of the actual words. He can’t hold them in his head; and he wonders if maybe he should be for Veronica later, because he doesn’t think she can hear Cliff at all over the gasping sobs she’s crying into his side.

He’s not sure if Veronica is going to be able to speak, but of course she manages to. She never stops crying, from the second she reaches the podium until she steps down. At times, she’s almost incomprehensible. But she stands strong, like he knew she would.

“My father,” she starts, “was the best man, best person, I ever knew. He made my life a safe, stable, loving place. He was always there for me. I never had to wonder about which side he was going to be on, because it was always mine. He was a great sheriff, not only because he believed in universal application of the law, but because he believed in respecting everyone, even those who saw fit to break the law. He was a great private investigator, because he understood that sometimes the law needs outside help. He was tough, and he was strong. He believed in fighting for what was right, and he believed that there was such a thing as ice cream for dinner nights. When he loved, which he did often, he loved with his whole heart. He taught me everything I know about how to live. He taught me to be self-reliant, but to know that he was always going to have my back. He taught me how to spot a liar, and how to tell a lie. He taught me how to tail a suspect, and how to lose a tail. And he showed me that the people in your life who are there to stay are the people who stand by you when everything is falling down. I can’t imagine my world without him, but I know he made sure I have the tools to go on now that he’s gone.” She stands there awkwardly for a second, and Logan holds in the urge to go to her. “And when I look at everyone who is here, I see the group of people he touched the most. Thank you. Thank you for loving him like I loved him.”

She steps back, and he meets her halfway.

At the reception, Logan sits beside her as various people come up to give their condolences. He doesn’t know most of them, but Veronica tells him stories. Polite ones when they’re there, and the torrid ones once they’ve stepped down. He sees Mac work up the courage to walk up and change her mind about four times before he decides to lead her up to Veronica himself when Cliff approaches. He kisses her cheek, and tells her he’ll be back. She nods distractedly as Cliff waxes poetically about Veronica’s eulogy.

“Hey,” he greets Veronica’s friend.

She blanches. “Hi. I didn’t know if I should come.”

He looks back up to where Veronica is, and sees that she’s smiling a bit at whatever Cliff is saying. “It’s good that you did. She needs her friends.”

“Not friends who’s boyfriends kill her dad.” She looks like she’s in physical pain.

“Aaron locked her in a fridge and lit it on fire,” he tells her. She nods. “Almost killed her dad, too.”

“I think the key word there is ‘almost’”, she responds. 

“Listen, you can decide to not go up and talk to her if you want. But she came running to your side like a bat out of hell, remember that. She’s not going to hold you accountable for anything he did.”

She looks up at him. “You really think she’ll forgive me?”

“No,” he tells her. “I really think she never blamed you in the first place.”

“So I should -” She motions to Veronica and her table. Logan looks and Wallace and his mother are there.

“Yeah, you should. I’ll walk up with you.”

Mac is quiet and withdrawn as they approach. Logan hears Mrs. Fennel talking to Veronica. She’s telling Veronica, “It’s really no problem.”

Veronica is looking at her in befuddlement. “I have a place to stay. My apartment.”

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I’m not alone,” Veronica tells her. “Logan’s with me.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Fennel says and takes in the sight of him as he and Mac get closer. “I’ve heard. Just, think it over.”

“I will,” Veronica says. “Thanks for the offer.”

Mac stays at his side and gives Veronica a little wave. “Hi.”

Veronica gives her a watery smile in return. “Hi. How are you holding up?”

Mac blinks, and suddenly she’s crying. “I’m not good. I’m feeling horrible and guilty, and I’m so sorry for everything.”

Veronica stands up and hugs her friend. For the first time since Beaver blew up the plane, Veronica looks like she has a purpose. 

“It’s not your fault,” she tells Mac. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He hurt you too.”

He makes a motion to go, and Veronica actually waves him away. She continues to hug Mac and the next time he looks, the two of them are sitting down, heads close together. He finds a corner close enough to get back quickly if Veronica needs him, and far enough away to give her privacy. He’s joined in a moment by Cliff. 

“I think she’s going to be ok,” he tells the attorney.

Cliff raises an eyebrow. “I think she’s going to have ups and downs.”

Logan snorts. “Who doesn’t?”

“You’re doing good, kid,” Cliff offers. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“You’re the only adult left,” Logan retorts. “If you’re not saying it, it isn’t getting said.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Cliff advises. They both turn their attention to Mrs. Fennel. “Just remember, you’re 18, she’s 18, and you’re remaining strictly platonic right now.”

He frowns. “Who told you that?”

“Got it from the horse’s mouth herself. Why? Is it not true?”

Logan reflects on the last few days. “Yeah, technically it’s true.”

Cliff snorts. “As a lawyer, I have to tell you that technical truths are my favorite. Just don’t do anything stupid before the week is up.”

Logan smiles. “I can’t do anything stupid with her until she’s not falling apart.”

“That is what I’m looking to hear.” Cliff raises his glass, and moves off to other corners, leaving Logan to look after and at Veronica.

At the end of the night, he gathers her and the leftover food Luigi’s is sending home with them, and escorts her out to the car.

“It’s over,” she sighs. 

“Yeah, it is.” He thinks to himself that tomorrow he gets to do it all over again, and drives them back to the apartment. He puts away the food, helps her out of her funeral attire, and slides into bed with her. Within seconds, he is gone.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day sees them at his father’s funeral. He didn’t want to come. He didn’t want her to come. But when the alarm clock woke them up, she started getting ready with him.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” she told him, and now that they’re standing there, he’s glad she didn’t. 

It’s not that Aaron can hurt him any more. But even knowing that he is dead and in a box, he still feels trapped. He thought that he would feel free once his father was gone, but all he feels is weighed down and anxious. He thinks it may be due to Keith’s death directly preceding the one he wished for. He thinks it may be the fact that even in death, he still has to put on the show Aaron always excelled at.

He doesn’t give a eulogy. He doesn’t even want to go to the reception, but Veronica has gotten her appetite back and she’s never one to say no to free food. He’d like to remind her that he’s the one paying for it, but he lets it go. They stand close together, she clutches at his hand, and they watch Aaron get lowered into the ground. He thinks it sucks that he gets this kind of closure, with a body to look at and bury, and Veronica got a picture and an open ended question.

They stay close when they get to the reception. Unlike at Keith’s, there is no one at Aaron’s funeral he wants to see, let alone have any private moments with. That includes Trina, who has gone out of her way to ignore both himself and Veronica. He thanks his stars, again, that Veronica chose to come with him today.

He leans over after the first course. “You want to vamoose?” 

She leans back into his touch. “Yeah, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

She smiles at him. “Excellent. Post funereal sweets!”

He grins back. “Best part? It’s on Aaron’s dime.”

“Score.”

Logan pulls her in close, and kisses the side of her head. Breathes in her scent. And starts feeling a little freer.


	5. Chapter 5

They don’t go to Beaver’s funeral. They don’t leave the apartment. Veronica bakes some cookies, and they sit around watching movies until Wallace comes over. Logan is pretty sure he went, but doesn’t ask. Wallace scarfs down snickerdoodles and he and Logan snipe at each other once Veronica decides they’re playing poker.

Mac shows up eventually, looking shell shocked and hurting. Veronica pulls her into a hug and sets her up at the table, and works at teaching Mac how to play with them. Her skills aren’t up to snuff, but Logan is willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and say that it’s probably because she did go to Beaver’s funeral. And stayed for the reception.

They don’t talk about it, or about his dad, or Veronica’s dad. It’s like they’re creating a little bubble of normalcy inside the kitchen of a dead man.

Eventually, Mac passes out on the couch. Veronica drags out a blow up mattress, and Wallace takes it and some blankets and makes a nest on the living room floor. He and Veronica get ready for bed, and climb in. For the first time in a long time, he feels normal. He feels like he’s home. He pulls Veronica closer, and hopes that some day soon she’ll feel it too.


	6. Chapter 6

Lianne comes back to Neptune, of course. Logan wonders what it is about bad parents that they think they can swoop in and play the hero when the better parent has departed. She’s fawning over a Veronica who still hasn’t completely come back to the world of the living when he comes home one day, and Wallace is sitting there, helpless to stop it.

She’s there for a couple of days before Logan begins noticing that things are going missing. It’s a few more days before he opens the fridge and finds bottles and bottles filled with alcohol, all poured carefully from their original container into the plastic water ones.

He waits until Wallace takes Veronica out for the day. The two of them have developed a routine to make sure she doesn’t spend too much time in the apartment, and almost never completely alone time there. He pulls out the bottles, lines them up. And waits for Lianne to come back. When she does, she looks startled to see him.

He doesn’t give her any time to recover. He points to the bottles. “You said you were done with that.”

She looks at him through watery eyes. “I am. I was. I just needed a little bit.”

He doesn’t bother to correct her. He has to protect Veronica, and if that means not getting into semantic arguments with her mom about what constitutes ‘a little bit’, then that’s what it means. “You’re leaving. You’re leaving this apartment, you’re leaving Neptune, and you’re not going to try and weasel your way into Veronica’s life again.”

“You can’t kick me out,” she screams at him. “I’m her mother!”

“You left!” Logan thinks he may be having an out of body experience. He’s yelling at Lianne, and he’s yelling at Lianne for Veronica; but he’s also yelling at Lynn, and at Keith, and at Lilly, and at Duncan, and at himself. At everyone who ever left her own her own. At everyone who ever left him on his own. At everyone who ever helped break them into two scared kids who have to face the world alone, together, and with barely the emotional tools between them to order a sandwich. “You left her, and you think you can just waltz on back and play being a mother again? Like she’s some toy who stays the same every time you put her down to pick up a bottle? You gave up. You’re a drunk and a quitter, and I don’t see why you would ever think Veronica needs you.”

“I’m getting better,” she whispers. “I’m going to meetings.”

“Good for you,” he says sarcastically. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.” He holds up a plastic water bottle. “And take your fucking vodka with you.”

When Veronica returns, Lianne is gone. She doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t tell him to stop making decisions about her life. Instead, she listens as he tells her about the alcohol. He neglects to tell her about his suspicions about the stealing. She sniffles, and pulls him to bed. They lay there, in the darkness, and Veronica tells him for the first time about her mother’s drinking. About how she spent her college money on sending her mom to rehab, only to have her check out early. About how her mother stole the reward money for finding Duncan on her last pass through town. About how she used to dream about her mom coming home and her family being whole again, and how now she dreams that it’s Lianne who dies in a plane crash and Keith lives. She tells him about how horrible she feels for even thinking that.

“I used to pray that it was a dream,” he whispers down into her. “Once we found Trina, once I knew. I used to wish so hard that it was Aaron who jumped, and that I was just having a nightmare. I wanted him gone so badly, and I wanted my mom so much.”

He feels the heat of his tears brush against his face from where they’ve gotten tangled in the strands of her hair. He feels her tears soaking the collar of his shirt as she clings to him. 

“I hate her.”

He’s not sure who says it. It could be either of them, and the words hover in the air. He decides that it doesn’t matter who said it first, he’ll repeat it now. “I hate her because she left me with him.”

Veronica snuggles further into him, presses her head into his neck. He can feel her breath tickling him as she confesses, “I hate her because she left me and him.” 

“I hate her because she never stopped him.”

“I hate her because she made me think Jake Kane could be my father.” He works hard at not startling at that one. Just continues on.

“I hate her because she checked out all the time, with booze and pills.”

“I hate her because she made him lie.” Logan pulls back a little, and rubs her back in circles. “‘Veronica,’” she says. “‘Don’t take that water bottle. Your mother isn’t feeling well. Take this one.’ She was a drunk for years, and he covered for her. For years.”

Logan whispers into the darkness, “I hate her because she never stopped loving him.”

Veronica’s confession, like many of hers have been, is a funhouse mirror version of his own. “I hate her because I don’t know if she ever did love him.” She breathes in a shaky breath, skips over his turn and takes another one of her own. “I hate her because she didn’t love me enough.”

He will never be able to admit that truth, that his mother didn’t love him enough either. He knows it, but decides to offer, “I hate her because she was weak.” He figures that pretty much covers it anyway.

Veronica snuggles back into him. Logan likes her weight. “I hate her because she was weak, too.”

He thinks, now, that they’re both talking about both of their moms. Two women, incapable of being mothers to their children. Incapable of staying when they were needed. Taking the easy way out. He hates Lianne at least as much as he hates his own mother, because of what she did to Veronica. He thinks that Veronica may feel the same way about Lynn. 

“We’ll be okay,” he promises her. “We’re going to be okay.”

He feels her shift again, pushing herself up his body so they’re eye to eye. “No,” she responds. “We’re not. We’re going to be great.”

He chuckles, looks at her hovering above him. “You always were an overachiever.” 

He wraps his arms around her, and pulls her down. Her head rests next to his. She repositions herself so that more of her is touching him than not. “I want what I want.”

He smiles into the darkness. “And woe betide those who get in your way.”

“Damn straight.” She yawns, and then he yawns, and they giggle at each other before falling asleep. His last conscious thought is how much he loves this, about how much he wants to keep this. Just like this. He hopes she feels the same.


	7. Chapter 7

The first time Veronica gets angry with him, a month into post-Keith living, is when he pays the rent on the apartment - their apartment, as he thinks of it - for the next three months. In a way, he’s thrilled. The fire and the passion have been woefully missing from her, and he wants her to have them back. Because it means she’s getting better. Of course, he’d rather she not be this mad at him.  
“I was helping!” he protests, cutting into her rant about overprivileged, overfunded man-children who think they can rule the world. “You weren’t thinking about rent, you weren’t paying rent, and you needed a place to live!”

“Did it ever occur to you,” she sneers, “that maybe I don’t want to live in this place?”

He stops. “What? Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s because it’s where the reality of my dad being dead set in. Maybe it’s because there’s Padres memorabilia everywhere, and I can’t ever see myself taking it down. Maybe because was our apartment, and now it’s just mine. Maybe,” she continues, “it’s just another reminder of everything that’s missing from my life!”

“I didn’t realize.” Logan feels like he’s been kicked. “I figured, you’d want to be around things that remind you of him.”

“I do,” she tells him, softening. “I just - I can’t be in a place that turns into a museum to him.” She pauses. “Plus, I can’t see you sleeping in my twin bed for forever.”

He’s staring at her again, he knows it. He can feel his eyes getting wide, and the feeling of being kicked has been replaced by a feeling of weightlessness. Opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again.

She looks down, and then out toward the kitchen. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I just figured -”

“Veronica,” he breaks in. “What are you asking me?”

He’s pretty sure he knows, but he needs to hear her say it. So when she says, “I thought that we’d maybe stay together,” he scoops her up and swings her around.

“Yes,” he answers her, “of course.”

She pulls back from him, but stays in his arms. “It has to be close to campus.”

“Yeah.”

“I neither want to nor can afford to live at the Grande.”

“We’re never going to step foot in that hotel again,” he confirms, and moves to pepper her face with kisses.

She smiles and leans further back, trusting herself to be supported by his arms. “Logan! Focus. There’s one more thing: I want to pay for my half of the rent.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be dependent on you, that’s why.”

“No. I’m vetoing that one.”

She doesn’t say anything, just scowls at him. Removes herself from his arms.

“Veronica,” he puts his hands out as a sign that he’s attempting to be reasonable, “you have no income. I have recently come into quite a bit of wealth on top of my already big stack of wealth. The place we can get if our payment spread is based on our ability to pay rather than a fifity-fifty split would be far superior than one we get based on what you’ve decided is ‘fair’.”

“I don’t want that,” she stubbornly insists.

Logan is working hard at not becoming completely exasperated. “Why?”

“What happens when you leave?” she demands

And now he’s back to feeling kicked. Across the face. “What?”

“What happens when the rules change, and you hate me again? What happens when you find a girl you want to bring home?” She looks at him, eyes dry. “What happens when you leave?”

“Ronica, I’m never going to -”

“You’re an eighteen year old party boy who’s worth millions. You’re telling me that a promise you make to me here and now is enough to keep you? I don’t want that. And I don’t want to get used to something I can’t have on my own.”

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?”

She sighs. “Because that’s what people do.” She looks at him again. “It’s what you’ve done.”

He pauses for a second to truly contemplate how fucked up they both are. “I never left.”

“You did after Lilly,” she retorts. “You did last summer. You’re sweet Logan for so long, and then you’re not, and I have to be able to land on my feet when that happens.”

“What about you?” he throws back. “You think you don’t leave? All you’ve done since we got together is run from me. You don’t talk to me about what you’re feeling, and then I have to chase you down. Or you don’t like what I’m doing, and I’m either in a jail cell or being broken up with, or both, and you won’t even work on our problems. How do I know you’re not going to bolt, first chance you get?”

“Then why do you even want to be around me?” She is hard and harsh and it’s clear that she’s baiting him into an even bigger knockdown, drag out fight. He doesn’t want to let her.

“Because I love you.” She stops. He stands there, and says it again. “I love you. You’re my oldest friend, and I love you. And I’ll always be there when you need me, so I’m not just going to up and decide to throw you to the wolves.” He pauses. “Again. Those were extenuating circumstances wherein I was an idiot sixteen year old boy deal with a massive amount of shit. I love you, and I’m in love with you, and that first one isn’t going to change, no matter what you think about the second one. I love you even when I hate you. I love you, and you’re always here when I need you too.”

She stares at him. 

“Anyway,” he tells her, “that’s why.”

“You -”

“Love you. Yes.”

She bites her lip, and he thinks it’s adorable. “You know, they say that relationships based on traumatic events don’t last.”

“That would be a problem, if our relationship was based on traumatic events,” he tells her. “But it’s not, so don’t misquote Speed to me.”

“You don’t think Cassidy trying to kill us and killing my dad counts as a traumatic event? You don’t think finding out that he raped me was traumatic?” She sounds incredulous.

“I don’t think our relationship is based on that. I don’t think you think that either.”

She smiles at him. “You have an answer for everything.”

“I do. And you’re going to let me do this, because you know that I’ve got money to burn. And we both know you’d be pissed if I actually burned it.”

“We can try it,” she tells him. “But Logan, I swear -” 

He kisses her, once, chastely on the lips. “Don’t swear. It’s a bad habit.”

He gets the laugh he’s going for. “I’m going to take a walk. Call Wallace.”

He nods. “Right. Listen, about me being in love with you. It doesn’t mean that you have to be with me. We don’t have to date or anything. I just wanted to let you know.”

She eyes him strangely. “You don’t want to date.”

“I do, but I’m also open and expectant to the idea of not dating.” He’s thinking about Kendall Casablancas and missed opportunities, about how he hurts her when he doesn’t mean to. About how he’s fucked up so often with her that he’s just thankful she lets him in the door.

Veronica gives a little half smile, and closes the gap between them again. Echoes the kiss he gave her with one of her own. “I think that I may be open to the idea of dating, though.”

“Well, that’s a horse of a different color.”

She smiles shyly at him; and for a second, he’s reminded of the Veronica he first met, knee socks and sweetness. He smiles back, wondering if she ever sees the gangly twelve year old he used to be when she looks at him. Thinks that being able to see each other as who they were, as well as who they are, is a blessing. It grounds him to her in ways he can’t even begin to describe. He thinks it probably does the same thing to her for him.

“Go for your walk,” he tells her, hands her Backup’s leash. “I’ll be here when you get back.”


	8. Chapter 8

Finding a place the two of them agree on is much harder than Logan had originally planned on it being. Veronica doesn’t like the mansions he suggests. He hates the apartments she drags him to. Neither one of them like the sole house the realtor he’s procured deigns to show them.

“Maybe we should just do on campus housing,” she floats, eating more than her share of the Chinese he’s gotten for them.

“Not going to happen,” he shoots back. “They won’t let us be paired together, and there’s no way I’m going to be living with some probably smelly freshman who is going to gawk at me for being Aaron Echolls’ kid. And there’s no way you’re going to be living with - well, anyone.”

The fact that housing assignments are done and out remains unsaid. 

“Are you implying that I’m difficult?” She snags an eggroll.

“I’m saying that you’re extremely difficult, with a healthy helping of incredibly judgemental. Plus, you’re a snoop. The poor girl would come home to find you reading her journal, and then there’d be disciplinary hearings, and I have to be the delinquent troublemaker in this relationship.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “I’ve been arrested at least as often as you were. And I created more trouble than you did. You got in trouble for the trouble I made, remember?”

“I remember. I still have the scars,” he offers flippantly.

She pauses for a second. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that he’s dead.” Goes back to eating her fried rice, and continues on. “I’m not saying that you aren’t a troublemaker. But I am saying that if you’re looking to be the troublemaker in our relationship, you’re going to need to step up your game.”

He smiles at her over his lo mein. It feels good to have everything out in the open, to be with someone who acknowledges the past’s existence but doesn’t seek to dwell on it any more than he does. “You know, sugar bear, I may just let you have the title after all.”

“And here I was hoping for some kind of game show like set up where we try to best the other in a series of pranks.”

“Nope, over eighteen now,” he tells her. “No more light sentences. We’d get the real deal. Plus, we have assets they could go after.”

“You have assets,” she counters. “I’m still living free as a bird, until Dad’s life insurance policy pays out.”

“So, two more weeks before you have to hang up your crooked ways?” He gently rubs her hand.

“Yeah, I guess. I wonder what all those other people do without rich boyfriends to float them.” She stabs at a piece of chicken with her chopstick. “It’s just wrong. I mean, you’re already dealing with all this other crap, and then you have to worry about how to float until the money you never wanted to need comes in.”

“It’s probably easier for other people,” he tells her. “I’m sure what happened didn’t make the process any smoother.”

Her mouth tightens, and she nods. “Just one more gift that keeps on giving from him, you know?”

He pulls her hand up to his mouth, kisses it gently. “I know.”

“Alright, we should probably get back to the grind. What time is Marisa meeting up with us to look at more ‘cutesy abodes’?” Veronica’s distaste shines through.

“I left her a message that we were cancelling the meeting.” She gapes at him. “We were never going to find anything you liked working with her. Mostly because, even if you liked it you would have hated it because she was the one showing it to us.”

“Not true,” she grumbles sullenly. At his look, she amends. “Potentially not true.”

“Anyway, I found this site called ‘Craigslist’,” he tells her, pretending to have made a remarkable discovery. “And, along with a wide array of offered sexual liaisons, I found a section devoted to housing. I have a list right here, and I’ve dutifully called the people listed. Bonus, I made sure that every single one of the offerings on this list will accommodate a pit bull.”

Veronica pulls him up and loops her arm through his. “You know, you make a pretty decent boyfriend.”

“Well, I have to live up to the stunning example set by your last one,” he snarks.

“You planning on skipping the country with an illegitimate love child?”

“I like to keep my options open,” he tells her. “But I think I might go for something more original than that. You know how it is. Once it’s been done, it’s just done.”

“Too true. It’s so banal.”

He snorts. “So, first on the list is a cozy little 4 bedroom with a reading nook and a bay window. I think you’ll like it.”

She does. He’s so thrilled that she’s found something she even remotely likes, he asks to put a deposit down on it right away. The man who is renting it is shocked, says something about background checks. Logan grimaces, and hands the guy a check. 

“First month, last month, deposit,” he says. “Get me whatever paperwork you need to do your check. But I want this expedited, and I don’t want you to show this house to anyone else, got it?”

The man looks at the name on the check, looks back up at him, and nods. Sometimes, he thinks, it’s good being the heir to a fortune; it’s good not knowing anything but getting the physical things you want. Now, there’s nothing to do but wait. He gathers up Veronica from where she’s waiting in the hall, and they walk back to his car.

“I hope we get it,” she says, looking back at the house as they drive away.

“We will,” he responds. “New beginnings, you and me.”


	9. Chapter 9

“I was thinking about reopening Mars Investigations,” Veronica tells him as they move their belongings into their new home. Renting, not buying, because Veronica would never hear of him buying them a place and he still holds out hope that one day, they will be free of Neptune.

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I’d have to pass the PI exam, and build a client base back up. But it makes more sense than pulling shifts at the Hut, you know?”

“Or,” Logan says, half jokingly, “you could live off of your boyfriend’s wealth, like he plans to do.”

She puts down the box she’s carrying. “Ha ha. I like having an independent income stream.”

“I know! I could pay you. I could pay you to hang out with me, and then you’d have an independent income stream, and I could see my girlfriend occasionally.”

She hip checks him. “I like the work, smart ass. I like taking things that are broken and making them better. I like finding the answers to peoples’ problems. I like ferreting out the truth and making the losers who lie, cheat, and steal cry as I make them pay.” She pauses, and starts unpacking her box. “Plus, it keeps those impulses in check so I don’t end up stalking you.”

“Hmm, but I like it when you stalk me.”

“You say that now...,” she warns him.

“How badly could you stalk me?”

“My dad bought a GPS tracker last year. It cost a lot of money. I could activate the chip in your phone, and voila! Instant awareness of your global position, at all times.”

“You’re...” He pauses. “A scary girlfriend.”

She shrugs. “It’s who I am. It’s how I think. So, instead of doing that, I think I’ll get to work, doing that on people who deserve it.”

He puts down the box he’s been lugging around, comes over to her, hugs her to him. “Just - in the event that you do lose it and decide to track me, why would you?”

She stiffens in his arms. “I don’t know.”

“Ok.” He releases her. She naws at her lip.

“Because I’m afraid you’re lying to me.” She hugs herself. “Because I don’t want to lose you. Because I like proof.”

“Proof of?”

She sighs. “You’re trustworthiness? I trust you, I do, and you have done so much for me. But I still need -”

“To know,” he finishes for her. She looks at him, and she looks small and sad and worried. He breathes in, and out. “I’m choosing to see this kind of pathological suspicion as proof that you love me, a lot. And not that I should seek to immediately institutionalize you. And if, for any reason, you feel the need to know my exact global position, I’ll probably be a little ticked. But I’m going to work on recognizing it as proof you care, and you’re going to work on recognizing that I’m not going to hurt you. And that you can trust me.”

Veronica releases the air she’s been holding in. “Okay. That works.”

He pulls her close again, for a second, and kisses her forehead. “See? Communication. Now, if this does happen, I’ll have been forewarned.”

“And forewarned is forearmed.”

“Darn tootin’.”

She smiles tremulously at him. “Yeah.” Shakes it off, and returns to business. “So, I’m thinking - I get my PI license, so I can legitimately work cases, and when Weevil gets out, I can offer him a job.”

“Weevil?” Logan makes a face. “Why Weevil?”

“Because he’s street smart, capable, already knows how to scout a location, and I trust him.”

Logan bristles a bit at the fact that she can trust Weevil so easily and him hardly at all. “What about the fact that he went away for murder -”

“Assault,” she cuts in.

“- burned down my house, had his gang beat me, and then played a little Russian Roulette with my hand and kneecap?”

Veronica’s mouth is pursed. “He did what?”

“I took care of it,” he says. “I didn’t need your help.”

“Ok, then, why not Weevil?”

“Did you not hear the bit about my kneecap?”

“I did. I also heard you say that you took care of it.” She sighs, sinks into the couch he had delivered. “Weevil’s going to need a job when he gets out. And I need someone I know to man the office when I can’t be there, and take jobs that I don’t have time for.”

“I’m going to need a better reason,” he tells her.

“Okay, how about this one: he was one of the only people who was decent to me in high school. He’s a friend of mine, he’s always had my back, and I should have his too.”

Logan ponders how Veronica is this weird mix of utterly hardened, cynical and untrusting and still incredibly soft, sweet, and loyal. “Alright, if doing this for Weevil means so much to you, I guess I can’t complain.”

“You can,” Veronica assures him. “I just won’t listen.”

He flops down on the couch next to her. “You’re just about the softest person I know who carries a taser,” he informs her.

She leans into him. “Wallace says I’m a marshmallow.”

He laughs. “Good description. You know, we can still hire movers.”

“Nah, I’ll just make Wallace and Darrell come by tomorrow.”

He scowls. “Doesn’t that mean we’ll have to help him move in?”

“Not,” she starts as she rolls onto him, “if we’re busy.”

He snorts into her kiss. Holds her on top of him as they make out. This, he thinks, is the life. Little disagreements figured out in time to break in the new couch. Sharing possession of a new couch. Having a home with the person he loves and most trusts. He would almost think he said it out loud, even though his tongue is otherwise occupied, by the contented little hum Veronica makes as he continues to kiss her senseless.


	10. Chapter 10

“How’s your case going?” he calls to her as she enters the front door and greets Backup.

“Who’s my good boy?” she coos at the dog, before turning to him and saying, “Done. Got the bad guy, got a small town boy his guitar back, and saw Neptune’s finest break out the cuffs for someone other than one of us. All in a day’s work.”

She looks entirely satisfied as she plops down next to him, giving him a perfunctory kiss hello. “So, you getting Duncan’s clothes back?”

“I don’t see why,” she answers. “He’s not going to need them.”

Logan smirks, and turns back to his video game. “Well, as long as you’ve done your good deed for the year.”

“Does it count as a good deed if you expect to be payed for it? But it was nice, you know, hanging out with someone who’s teenage angst was working enough to get the money for his prized possession. Instead of all of us.” Logan feels her slump against him, her warmth creeping up his side. “He wanted to know if you were my boyfriend.”

“He wanted to know if you have a boyfriend,” Logan corrects her. “That guy has a serious crush.”

“Please,” she jeers. “He doesn’t even know me. I’m just tiny and blonde and brilliant.”

“That you are, sweet cheeks. So, what did you tell him when he asked about me?”

“I didn’t really know what to say.”

“What do you mean?” he replies sharply. He knows he’s on the verge of losing it, knows she knows he’s on the verge of losing it, and knows that him being on the verge of losing it means that she’s more apt to shut down entirely. Of all the crap they put each other through, bad responses to the other’s coping mechanisms is probably up at the top of the list.

She’s pulling away, just like he knew she would if he reacted like he did. Her eyes shutter before him, and he’s at a loss. “It’s just - you’re not... I wouldn’t call you my boyfriend. You’re... More.”

It’s something they’ve both been making a conscious attempt to work on, their individual issues and their couple issues. Logan needs words, and Veronica can’t give them up easily. Veronica needs proof of action, and it hurts him to know that she can’t just trust what he says. So, he takes ‘more’ as her way of saying I love you. It would be better for him to hear the actual words, but, then again, it would probably be better for her if she could say them.

“How much more?” he leers. She smirks and pushes him away.

“Not like that.”

“So, how’d this guy find out about your specific set of skills, anyway?”

She leans back into him, and he drops a careless kiss on her forehead. “He’s Wallace’s roommate.”

Logan stifles a groan. “Great.”

“You don’t have to hang out with him,” Veronica informs him. “It’s not like I expect us to host weekly board game nights.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I’d have liked to see you play Sorry with a bunch of people who don’t know how vicious you are.”

She snorts. “I think I like having a group of people who don’t know how much they should hate me yet.” She kisses him again. “I’ve got plans with Mac tonight. She’s got a disgustingly peppy roommate who’s also excessively friendly with the fellas, so we’re going to hit the town, maybe paint it red. Don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll call you.”

She’s up and off the couch before he can respond; and, not for the first time, he wonders what scares her so much about him that she always has to be running. It’s getting better, though, because lately she has been coming back without him having to chase her. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before there’s a knock on the door. He sighs. No save points in sight. He’s tempted to let it go unanswered, if not for the fact that the tiny blonde one is still out. And if she’s still out, then that means she could be getting drunk. And if she’s drunk and makes it home, then the likelihood of her getting the key in the lock and turning it are slim. So, he lets the game run and goes to the front of the house.

“You better drink plenty of water -” he begins, but when he opens the door, it’s not Veronica. It’s Dick. He’s a little shocked, to say the least.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Dick crumbles. 

He, for the first time in a while, is at a loss. He thinks about Veronica, about how he can’t just let Dick in without at least talking to her about it, convincing her that it’s a good idea. And yet, he finds himself saying, “Yeah, hey, it's all right, I...you can stay here. For a little while.”

Dick starts to cry, and doesn’t move off of the front step. Logan hopes to God Veronica doesn’t come home in the middle of this. “I messed up bad.”

“It's gonna be okay,” he comforts, and he steps out onto the stoop with him. Pulls Dick into a hug. “Come here.”

He manages to get Dick into the house, into one of the spare bedrooms, and he’s thanking all of his lucky stars that he managed to convince Veronica that apartment living wasn’t for him because having Dick sleeping on a futon or something when his girlfriend comes home sounds like a recipe for disaster. Having him sleeping in one of the guest beds probably won’t be much better, but at least it’s something.

So, when his cell phone rings, he’s already got a prepared statement. “Veronica, I have something to tell you - Dick’s here, and I don’t know when he’s leaving.”

It feels good saying it, but the voice on the other end answers, “Um... This isn’t Veronica.”

He pulls the phone away from his ear, looks at the caller ID, and puts the phone back to his ear. “Who is this? Why are you calling from my girlfriend’s phone?”

“It’s Mac,” the voice assures him, and the panic that swelled up within him dials back down. “Veronica didn’t know what an Irish coffee was. The first time, anyway. And she had a couple, so I think - we think - she should stay here for the night.” 

“Where is she?”

“In my dorm room?” Mac answers.

Logan sighs. “I meant, why are you the one calling?”

Mac giggles a bit. “She’s pretty drunk, and while it’s kind of adorable, I have a sleeping roommate I’d rather not have Veronica wake up. She’s not too good with the ‘indoor voice’ concept right now.”

Logan has to laugh at that himself. “When she wakes up in the morning, tell her I’m sorry I missed the drunken adorableness. And have her drink a lot of water.”

“Right, okay. And the thing about Dick?”

He hesitates. It would be easier to let Mac be the one to tell her. “Don’t say anything. I’ll explain it to her when I see her.”

“Right.” Mac sounds relieved. “Will do. Night.”

“Wait!” He panics for a second.

Mac comes back, her voice tinged with worry. “Yeah?”

“This is the first time - this is her first night alone since Keith...” He doesn’t know how to explain it any better than that.

“Oh!” Mac sounds surprised. “Oh. Well, uh, do you want to come and get her?”

“No, that’s ok. If she feels ok, then that’s ok. I just - is there a way she doesn’t have to sleep in a bed?” Beds, alone in beds, is a big trigger for her nightmares. He doesn’t know how to tell Mac about her nightmares without hurting either one of them. He doesn’t know what to say if she pushes for an explanation.

“I’m setting her up on the couch.”

“Okay, good. And if she freaks out for any reason -”

“I’ll call you immediately,” Mac promises. She pauses for a second. “You know, I had no idea you were so -”

“Crazed?”

“Sweet,” Mac retorts. “I figured you were just an asshole.”

He stops. “Did you have anything to drink tonight?”

“Maybe one.”

He laughs. “Night, Mac.”

“Night.”

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to stay up, wants to be up and ready to go if she needs him. But he doesn’t want to anticipate her needing him. He doesn’t want to be expecting her to need him, and then have to deal with the disappointment that she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be disappointed that she’s getting better, that she’s clinging to him less. It’s not her fault it feels like she’s leaving him behind just because she’s starting to live again. He crawls into their bed, and snuggles into her pillow. It still smells like Promises. And she still smells like marshmallows. He wakes up in the morning from a fitful sleep. She didn’t call.


	11. Chapter 11

He’s sitting at their kitchen table, attempting to do his Sociology reading because he knows Wallace will out him to his Mrs. if he doesn’t perform well in class when she comes through the door. She pats Backup on the head and moves further into the house.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he calls out to her. “A late night of partying, dancing, raising of the roof?”

Veronica turns, and for the first time he sees her face. She looks like hell. “Hi.”

Logan is out of his chair and over to her before she’s able to get out that one syllable. He pulls her into him. “What happened? I told Mac to call me if anything -”

“No, no, I was fine.” She pulls away from him and he can see the tears that are forming in her eyes. “I was good. I didn’t have one - and then I wake up, and it turns out Mac’s roommate, the scarily peppy one? Someone raped her last night.”

He groans and pulls her closer. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” she muffles into his shirt. “I heard it. When I went to get our tickets. I heard it happening. I could have stopped it, and I just walked back out of the room.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“You know, everyone said that about - about Shelly’s. And I didn’t believe them. I wanted someone to know.” She pulls away from him a little bit, wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Buries her head back into his chest. “It’s like my nightmares, only I’m the asshole who’s ignoring what’s happening right in front of me, instead of being the person on the bed.”

“You’re not an asshole,” he soothes. She snorts into his shirt, and he amends, “Well, you are. But not about this. It’s college. People have sex. People have sex in dark rooms when their roommates are gone.”

“But I should have known!” Her eyes are fire even though she’s still sniffling and tears are still trying to escape. 

“Why? Because you’ve been there? You don’t have some sort of rape homing beacon, Veronica. It’s not a superpower you get afterward.” She flinches. “It’s something someone did to you. And it’s something someone else did to this girl.”

“I feel like I should have known.”

“Well,” Logan shrugs. “You didn’t, you couldn’t, and you won’t know the next time.”

“You’re not really helping,” she scolds.

He pulls back from her. “Want to know a secret? I don’t really care that much about this other girl. I’m just happy it didn’t happen to you.” He pauses. “Again.”

“That’s not the best way to look at this either.”

He smiles in response. “Yeah, well, I’m not that great a person. Listen, I have Sociology, but if you want, I can skip it. We can go do something. Or not do something. Whatever.”

“No, I’m going to be okay. You should go to class. It’s college. It’s important to actually do the learning.” She looks around. “I’ll just hang out here for a while. Regroup.”

They hear a snort coming from the stairs, and Dick wanders down, semi-clothed. He doesn’t need to turn to know that Veronica has on her ‘I’d rather be eating glass’ face. “Dick’s staying here for a bit, if that’s okay with you.”

She glares at him. “We need to work on communication.”

“So, is that a yes to this? Or a no?”

“Fine. For a little bit. Literally. Not forever, not for the foreseeable future, for a little bit. If I see him living in our guest room three months from now, I’m going to kick both of your asses.” She goes up on her toes, drops a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to go change. Then I think I’ll hitch a ride with you to campus, walk you to class.”

“What about -”

“Oh, I’m not staying here with only Dick to keep me company.” She keeps walking. “With any luck, Back Up will eat him if there’s no one here to tell him no.”

After she’s disappeared up the stairs, Dick shakes his head. “Your girlfriend’s a -”

“If you’re about to say anything other than ‘awesome person’, I’m going to need you to get out of my house.”

“Awesome person,” Dick finishes, looking at Logan nervously. “But seriously, dude, does she keep your balls in a vice grip or something?”

Logan looks at his best friend levelly, does his absolute best not to punch him. He’s proud to say that he succeeds. He thinks he might be growing as a person. “She’s going through some shit. You know, what with her dad dying and all.”

Dick has the decency to look at bit ashamed. “Yeah, about that...”

Logan can feel the ire start to creep up into his eyeballs. “Don’t say anything. Got it? Just - do your best not to piss her off.”

Dick nods, and when Veronica comes back into the room starts with, “Hey, Ronnie, how -”

“Don’t talk to me, Dick,” Veronica bites back. “Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, and don’t even think about touching me.” She scoops Logan’s books off the table and turns to face him. “Ready?”

“And willing,” he tells her, bemused. 

She doesn’t talk to him on the drive over, or as they walk. He’s used to this. He knows how she deals. Knows how she shuts down parts of herself so she can deal with the problems in the here and the now. Still, it doesn’t make for the most exciting walk to class ever. When they get to the room, he kisses her gently. “You have your keys to the car if you want to get home?”

She nods. “Yeah. I’m going to give Wallace a call, see if he’s free to hang out after you guys get out.”

“Hey, you mad at me?” He pulls her away from the open door to ask. Sees his professor give him a look, and ignores it.

“No. Not really.” She shifts. “Dick being around isn’t what I would call laughs a plenty, but I can deal. I just - I need to handle this. And I want to see Wallace.”

“Alright,” he kisses her again. “I gotta get in there. I’ll see you later.”

“Either here or at home, yeah.”

“Great.” He can’t help but feel like he’s leaving her when he walks into the classroom. Wallace is already there, chipper and eager to learn. But he feels old, and worn out. It feels like everyone else in the room, everyone else on campus, has a hope that they’re going to one day make a name for themselves, and all he wants is to leave the notoriety of Logan Echolls behind.

He dozes through class, still feeling the aftereffects of his first night without Veronica by his side in months. It still reverberates around his skull that now the summer is over, and they’re in a whole new world. Now, they’re on campus, and there are so many other people and places for her to take refuge. She can still run, and he’ll be left behind.

“Show of hands,” Dr. Kinney’s voice breaks through his depressed musings. “Who of you saw this photo from Abu Ghraib and thought, ‘I would never do that to another human being’?”

His hand doesn’t go up. Wallace’s does, and Logan is not surprised. He’s almost hoping someone will ask how anyone could do such a thing, because being able to explain how good it would feel to utterly devastate someone, the power, the addictive thrill, might be fun. It’s something he and Veronica have in common. Something she keeps in check by having people like Wallace in her life. Something he keeps in check because he doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t want to destroy people just to feel that power in his hands. But he knows he has it in him; and he knows he would, if the price was right. 

The news of a 20 page term paper is just icing on the cake. So when the professor offers an out, he takes it. So does Wallace. He ponders the wisdom of leaving Veronica and Dick alone, together, but his hand is already in the air. And Veronica can survive without him. She’s just proven it.


	12. Chapter 12

“I think I got a job at the school paper,” she tells him after they meet by his car. “It’s much better than the library job the school wanted me to take. Now, I get to use a couple of my skills, instead of none of my skills, until I can figure out how to open Mars Investigations again.”

“That’s great,” he answers. “My sociology class is doing a little experiment.”

“I know,” Veronica says. “Wallace is doing it.”

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck. “So am I.”

“Oh!” She sounds genuinely shocked. Logan looks at her. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense. Chance to get out of doing a term paper, and guaranteed the length gets cut by half? Of course you would do this.”

She’s put her mask back into place, but he’s suddenly sure she’s just as unsettled by the changes in their routine as he is. “I don’t have to. I can tell Dr. Kinney that I changed my mind.”

She stops, shakes her head. “No. No, it’s going to be good. I mean, it’s only -”

He winces. “Forty-eight hours.”

“We should be able to go forty-eight hours without seeing or hearing from one another. That’s healthy.”

“And what are we, but poster children for what is healthy?” he snarks. 

She winces. “Forty-eight hours.”

“Yup.”

“With only Dick and my dog for company.”

“You’ve got Mac,” he offers.

“Mac is dealing with roommate trauma. And since her roommate now hates me, I don’t see myself hanging out over there. Plus, Mac and Dick -”

“Wait,” Logan interrupts. “Her roommate hates you? Why?”

Veronica looks at him like he’s lost a head. “Because I let her get raped?”

“You didn’t let her - you know, girls are vicious creatures.”

“Yeah, we do get tetchy when someone violates our bodily autonomy.”

He can’t help the deep breath he takes, he can’t. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Veronica calms him with a kiss. “I know. It’s okay. I’m going to be checking out a sorority house anyway, so we’ll just compare notes of the horrors we encountered later.”

The itchy panic he has felt on and off since that night on the roof climbs back into his throat. “Why are you investigating a sorority?”

“It’s my newspaper job. I’m supposed to infiltrate the house, and see if they have anything to do with the rapes that have happened.”

“Veronica.” His voice is deadly calm. “Are you telling me that you’re going to be investigating rapes, when I’m incommunicado? When Wallace is too?”

“Yes?”

He can feel all the muscles in his body tensing. “Tell me Weevil is out of jail.”

She makes a face. “I can’t find him.”

“So, you’re going into a sorority house, I’m not around, Wallace isn’t around, and you can’t find Weevil. Who’s your backup?”

“I don’t have any.” Veronica makes a ‘sorry’ face. Logan wants to strangle her.

“Please, for the love of god, find someone to be your backup. It can be the wimpiest person on campus, but have someone watching your back.”

“Okay, I’ll find someone. Do you have time for lunch before I drop you off at the slammer?”

“Yeah. But, you know, not knowing if you’re okay or not is better torture than anything I can come up with for the other guys.”

“You’re sure you’re going to be a guard?”

Logan looks at her. “Of course I am. I didn’t raise my hand when the professor asked if we thought we could never do Abu Ghraib style torture.”

“Because that’s what everyone loves in the middle of their research,” she says. “A lawsuit because a sociopath went too far.”

“I’m not a sociopath.”

“I’m just quoting the inevitable court documents. You know, you can get a shrink to say anything.”

“Is this antipathy toward psychological help based on anything in particular? Or is it yet another piece to the Veronica Enigma?” he teases.

She scowls playfully back. “Is this out of real concern, or just curiosity?”

“Just curious.” He ducks away from her swipe, grabs her hand and wraps his arms around her waist. “I’m going to miss you.”

She leans into his hug, breathes in deep. “Yeah, yeah. I’m incredibly missable.”

“You going to miss me?” he finds himself prodding. Wishes he were strong enough not to. Wishes he didn’t have to.

She breathes in, and then out. “Yeah.” Her voice wavers. She repeats it, quietly. “Yeah.”

They stand there for a couple of minutes, soaking up each other. Logan wonders if he can grab enough of her to him to last him two days. He wonders if he can hold on to her tight enough to make her a part of him. She shudders in his arms, and he kicks himself for doubting how much she still needs him. He kicks himself for letting his pride get in the way of letting him admit how much he still needs her.

“Come on, Butch,” she tells him as she pulls away. She’s always the first one to pull away. “Gotta get you fed and then back to campus.”

“Alright, Sundance. Just as long as you’re a-waiting for me on the other side.”

“Hey,” she pulls him back around. “There’s no one I’d rather die with in a hail of Bolivian army gunfire than you.”

When she says things like that, Logan reflects as he kisses her, it’s almost better than her telling him that she loves him.


	13. Chapter 13

The problem with having a fucked up childhood, Logan recognizes, as the guards do their best at being their worst to the prisoners, is that nothing outside the truly terrible makes an impression. He’s halfway to taunting the guard, Rafe, if he didn’t think it was going to reverberate back to the weakest member of his group. Horshack obviously was never hit repeatedly with the business end of a belt, because he’s as soft as Veronica was when she was twelve. The difference is, Veronica toughened up. Doesn’t stop him from wanting to protect her now, though, just like he wanted to protect her then.

It’s only when they wake him up with the most ridiculous song in the history of songs that he snaps. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you what you want to know.” He beckons Rafe closer. “Come here.” Rafe walks over, bends down. “Yes, I like Pina Coladas. And getting caught in the rain.”

Rafe recoils, and Logan wants to laugh. Wants to show this douchebag how to actually make it hurt. But, just like he suspected, Rafe is quickly moving on to weaker targets. Horshack is obviously uncomfortable, and it turns out, has peed himself. Logan inwardly shudders. If one of them is going to break, it’s clearly Horshack. He has to find a way to make sure he doesn’t. Or, if he does, that the rest of them are still safe. He wants to help the guy, but the only thing he’s ever known how to do is poke the bear. He’s not really so good at white knighting it. 

Wallace is the one to be protector, sneaking Horshack his extra pair of pants in the middle of the night behind Rafe’s back, with a “here you go, man”. For a second, Logan’s concerned that Wallace will press for the information he wants - classic bad guard, good guard. But he doesn’t, because Wallace is a genuinely good guy. He nods at Veronica’s best friend, and the guy nods back before he exits the ‘cell’.

Guys like Wallace, he thinks, are why the world isn’t half as screwed up as it would otherwise be. He wonders if he ever had it in him to be that good. He wonders if he could ever attain that level of goodness. If he could ever get beyond himself enough to reach out a hand without wondering if he was going to get smacked down for it. 

He doubts it, just like he doubts that anyone here could hurt him one iota as much as the threat of having to get a belt from the closet hurt. What the experiment doesn’t allow, Logan reflects, what the guards are incapable of, is the moment of anticipation. Juvenile threats of humiliation don’t have nearly the same impact as real pain and suffering, as real sadism. And real sadism doesn’t have nearly the same impact as the knowledge of that action being imminent. The worst part of torture isn’t the torture. It’s having been tortured, and knowing more is coming, there’s nothing to stop it, and the person doing the torturing is enjoying the hell out of it.

As sick as it is, the moment before Aaron let go was always the hardest moment. The pain of a bone breaking, the agony of belt breaking skin, the anguish of skin sizzling, was also a relief. The knowledge that this is how bad it was going to be, this time around, was so much better than the alternatives his imagination always cooked up. He hates Aaron for that, probably more than for anything else beyond Lilly. For making the pain he inflicted an alleviation of the paralyzing fear of pain Logan created himself. For making Logan his own worst enemy, and for making Aaron the liberator.

The next morning, as he watches Horshack get led away to solitary confinement - and how great would it be to be in solitary right now, instead of out here, in the world - all he can hope is that this little bit of perversion from Rafe is as much abuse the guy ever experiences. And that this power play on Rafe’s part is just the normal dickishness of a guy who has never had control before, instead of someone who may one day turn into another Echolls type family man. 

He thinks that may be the worst part, when he thinks about it, when he stops to really consider what has happened to him. It isn’t the fact that he’s damaged goods. It isn’t the fact that he’s got scars that will never fade. Those aren’t the worst of Aaron’s crimes. It’s in wondering which people he sees have that lurking under their skins, and what it will take to make it emerge. Who’s one only semi-warm moccachino away from wailing on their kid. More worrying than the idea that it will be him is the thought that he’s as blind to it as everyone else is. 

And the worst part of that part, is that he’s not even sure what he would do. Veronica is the rescuing type. She wants to know, because knowing helps her right the wrongs. On his most pathetic days, he thinks he would just like to know for the same reason it was better when the fist hit; because not knowing who is that type of bastard is its own special form of torture.

At the very least, he's found a topic for his term paper if Horshack breaks. The effects of imprisonment and torture only really begin after the person is free. When you’re on the inside, you know the who. It’s on the outside that the damage is really done.


	14. Chapter 14

He comes home, tired and aching, but looking forward to curling up to Veronica. Of course, he anticipated Veronica being something other than upset, which is really the first flaw in his plan.

“What’s wrong?” He’s not afraid to admit he’s a little frantic. She was fine when he saw her during their break from fake jail. Tired and worn out, but fine.

She looks at him blankly. “I messed up.” Shakes her head, as if to clear it. “That sorority was nothing but nice. Nice people, who were just having fun. And responsibly. Like, they made sure people didn’t drink too much and called them rides once they had. Their den mother, she has cancer. She was growing pot. That was the big house secret. And I sold them out.”

“You didn’t mean to.” He knows this better than he knows anything else. Veronica has a code of ethics, and revealing secrets that hurt the hurting goes against them. He sits across the couch from her, wanting to make it better.

“I didn’t mean to, but I did. I wanted to pull the story, but Nish wouldn’t hear of it.” He doesn’t know who Nish is, but it doesn’t matter. She looks at him. “I’m going to be working at the information desk at the library. I can’t do this sort of thing if there’s someone above me with an agenda.”

He nods again. “I wish I knew how to make it better for you.”

She reaches for him. “You can come to bed with me. That’d be a start. I’m so tired, it’s ridiculous.”

“Have problems sleeping when I was away?”

“Yeah.” She smiles shyly at him, and then bumps him gently. “I got used to you.” She becomes a little more serious. “Plus, with these rapes, some of my nightmares have been coming back.”

He grimaces. “Fun.”

“Yeah, right? Want to know the best worst part of the sorority debacle?” She looks to him for his answer.

“Sure.” He’s not sure if there’s anything else to say.

“They wanted me in. They wanted me to join, and, God help me, I kind of wanted to. Who in the world am I becoming if I think that sounds fun?”

He scoops her up, and carries her up the stairs. “It sounds like Old Veronica is peeking out of the shadows.”

“Maybe she should stay there,” she growls at him.

“I don’t know,” he tells her. “I liked Old Veronica. She was cute.”

“I’m not cute?”

“Only to the people who don’t also know that you’re deadly,” he says, plopping her down onto their bed. “You’re a lot of things, Veronica Mars. And you can play at being cute. But all in all, I’d say you left cute behind a while back.”

“Then what am I?” She sounds nervous. As if she doesn’t know what to expect.

“Ravishing,” he starts off, kissing her. “Breathtaking.” Gives her another kiss. “Sexy.” She leans up to meet him. “Smoking hot.” Breaks away from her mouth and kisses her neck. “Sensual.” Kisses her cheek. “Spunky.” Returns to her lips. “All the things that take the place of cute once cute has grown up and put on big girl clothes.”

“How do you do that?” She asks him, slipping closer to sleep.

“How do I do what?”

“Make me feel so... warm.”

He pulls her close to him. “It’s because I love you.” She murmurs, and he knows she’s gone to the world. “I love you. And I like telling you why.”


	15. Chapter 15

Logan wakes up in the middle of the night to the sounds of the shower running, and a girl missing from the bed. He stumbles into the bathroom, and the lights are too bright for him to focus. But there’s a keening sound coming from the tub, and he makes his way toward it.

Veronica is there, curled up in a corner, being pelted by steaming water, and making noises he’s sure she doesn’t want him to hear. He can’t help hearing them. He can’t bear to leave her alone.

He doesn’t join her. He doesn’t sit at the edge of the tub. He doesn’t reach toward her. He can’t. She’s in her private bubble of pain, and Logan doesn’t want to do anything that could hurt her more. Unfortunately, that leaves him in a paralyzed state of doing nothing. He’s still blurry and soft from sleep, so he stands there, looking down at her fuzzy outline.

“Logan?” she croaks. 

“Yeah.” He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand, then pulls at his hair.

“Go back to bed.”

He sits down on the toilet. “Can’t. I’m missing a blonde.”

“Please.”

He’s not sure if she is begging him to go, or begging him in general, or if that was a pathetic attempt to mock his rather pathetic pick up line. He just leans back, stretches out best he can, and closes his eyes. He thinks he might have fallen back to sleep, and Veronica breaks the silence.

“Cassidy was in our room. In our bed. And my dad,” her voice breaks. “My dad was in pieces in the corner.”

He doesn’t open his eyes. He learned early on that she doesn’t like him to look at her when she’s like this. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He keeps his eyes closed. “I was dreaming of bees.”

“Bees?” 

“Taking that lit class, right? Had to read and analyze a poem.”

“Dickinson.” She knows. Of course she knows. “You pick it because it was short?”

“Someday, you’re going to be sad when you underestimate me,” he shoots back. “But, yeah. It was because it was short.”

She coughs a couple of times, wet and heavy. “Which one was it?”

He smiles, keeps his eyes closed.

“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee --  
One clover and a bee,  
And revelry.”

He stops before the end. “I also picked it because it’s pretty.”

She snorts. “And your analysis? Was it that it was pretty?”

He groans. “You really want me to give you a decent answer at like 3 in the morning? When we went to bed two hours ago?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “I want to get away from...”

She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to. “I used you, actually. Us. Obliquely. I think it’s about how two symbiotic organisms can make a beautiful ecosystem out of nothing but themselves, and the joy they bring to their work. A clover and a bee, working together out of love and a desire to create, can turn a desert into a place of life and sustainability.”

He hears the water turn off. He opens his eyes, and grabs her a towel. “You know, words are nice, but they don’t solve problems.”

She lets him wind the towel around her, lets him dry her off. He likes to think that she knows what he gets out of this, taking care of her. He likes to think that is why she lets him, when all she wants to do is push everyone away. 

“They solve some problems,” he tells her softly. “And the ones they can’t solve, they help ease the ache.”

She just looks at him, blue eyes so dark they are almost black. She trembles.

“Stay here.” He leaves her in the warmth of the bathroom, grabs some pajamas for her, and walks back to her. “Put these on. I’ll go make up one of the other beds.”

She protests, but he won’t hear of it. She never tells him her dreams aside from the basics, but he’s well aware that she has a hard time falling back to sleep amid the ruins of them. She used to sneak off to the couch in the old apartment; but she won’t do that here, not with Dick in the house. Most of the time, he’s glad he could help a friend out. But when it comes to the divided loyalties between Dick and Veronica, he wishes he thought more about what Dick’s presence in their home would do to her.

She follows him down the hall to another bedroom, clutching their pillows to her body. He puts the sheets he liberated from the hall closet on, and deposits her in it, on his side. Pads back down the hall and grabs their comforter. She’s tucked under the sheets when he returns, and watches him silently as he throws the newest addition on top of her. She doesn’t giggle. She doesn’t really react at all. He pulls it off of her, and straightens it out. Crawls into bed on her side and hunkers down.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I’m so broken.”

She only opens up like this in the dark. He turns to her. “You’re not broken. You’re not even a little bent. You’re in pristine Veronica Mars condition. You’re the exact person I want to be changing beds with at half past any hour.”

She snuffles, and shuffles as far away from him as the bed will allow. He refuses to let it sting. It does anyway. Like a couple of thousand of Dickinson’s bees, all pissed off because they can’t find their clover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Logan analyzes for his literature class is "To Make a Prairie" by Emily Dickinson, and can be found (along with other places) here: http://www.bartleby.com/113/2097.html


	16. Chapter 16

Sometimes in his darker moments, like right now, he imagines that he only chases Veronica because she runs. Because he’s desperate to give love to someone, to get love from someone, and he doesn’t have the proper tools to actually find someone who will both allow him to love and who will return it too. He went to a shrink for a half a second, a lifetime ago, and the guy said that he had adequacy issues. He never had to wonder where those would come from. His father, his mother, Lilly. The list goes on. But he knows that’s not it. He’s tried to convince himself that Veronica means nothing before, and instead he made her an as important part of his life, just on the other side of the scale. He couldn’t ignore her, like Duncan did. He couldn’t just banish her and be done, like he did to Caitlin. Veronica Mars means something, a big something, to him. In the moments when he’s clinging too close and she’s squirming so hard to get away, he doesn’t want her to. He wants the shrink to be right, and this to just be an example of his pathological need to be loved clashing with his inability to let anyone love him.

But he knows it’s worse than that. He is utterly in love with Veronica Mars, and he’s pretty sure she loves him back. But they’re two people who have never witnessed a healthy, working romantic relationship between two adults. Sure, they thought they had. He saw the Kanes and the Mars’ as two of the more perfect families in the world. And she probably saw all three of their families that way. But none of them were immune from adultery, from secrets, from wounds too deep and too familiarly cast. And then he and Lilly, and Duncan and Veronica, set forth to recreate the destruction on a different scale. Their perfect high school relationships, besieged by lies and secrets, cheating and scandals, addictions garnered to help soothe away the injustices of love. And they each knew the perfect way to wound the others. Those lessons make for skittish bedfellows.

Sometimes he’s amazed they’ve made it this far, gotten this close. Allowed each other in as much as they have. Sometimes, he’s glad they have each other, because he can’t even begin to imagine trying to make it work with someone who can’t just look at him and see all of the past reflected back. Sometimes he thinks they are broken, and he hopes that their jagged edges will somehow find their way into each other, fitting together in ways they never imagined. Sometimes he thinks they’re broken, and that their jagged edges are tearing into each others soft underbellies. Sometimes, he imagines those jagged edges catching on the stony parts of each other, and getting polished down to a more manageable shape. 

She sighs in her sleep, turns over and seeks him out in a way she doesn’t when she’s awake. Knows she’s seeking him out, because she breathes his name, soft and gentle, as she nuzzles in. He starts to feel the tension melt away, the sharp pain of rejection salved by her touch. His mind stops racing, stops its recriminations. He turns over, and starts to let sleep come for him.

Most of the time, he thinks they’re actually doing okay, considering. He’d like to be able to say the same thing some day, without the considering part. He’d like to be able to smile when he says it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any actual dialogue from the show comes from vmtranscripts.com

Veronica is waiting for him when he gets out of weightlifting, and he feels a sense of rightness with the world. Yes, they planned on meeting here; but if history has taught him anything, it is to expect the almost inevitable failure of Veronica Mars to show up at predetermined times and in mutually agreed upon places. Time was, he thought that even to suggest such a thing was to invite Big Chaotic Action into her life - and, by proxy, his own.

She’s still on edge about the serial rapes happening on campus. He knows this. But he can’t help the giddy, “Oh, boy. Nudity,” that escapes him as he leans down over the bar to look at his diminutive girlfriend.

“If you have words written on yourself, it’s not nudity. It’s political speech,” she corrects him. “Taking control of one’s body to turn the objectifying male gaze back on itself -”

“Okay,” he breaks in, wondering why either of them thought it was a good idea for her to take that women’s studies course to help her work through her issues instead of continuing the normal route of ‘therapy’, “no more college for you.”

He pulls her close to him, revelling in that ability. They walk up the stadium, and he’s feeling pretty good about the day, tense ball of someone who answers to the title of his girlfriend beside him notwithstanding. Her palpable unenjoyment when they meet up with a few of the more attractive members of his weightlifting class only makes him lighter. He loves it when she goes caveman on him.

She’s quick to deny it though, answering his “Jealous?” with, “Jealous would involve piano wire.”

They go around a conversational bend for a little bit, and Logan is sure something is happening here he’s not quite picking up on. There’s an undercurrent of discontentment pouring off of her, and he’s not sure of the whys or hows, or if it has to do with him at all. She actually gets excited at the prospect of going to an art show with him, and he’s never known her to be interested in art before. So, either she’s really getting into the whole “expanding horizons” thing, or he’s missing something. Possibly, he thinks, both. 

“I’m busy,” he tells her sheepishly, and watches her hopeful face break down into something more resembling deep displeasure. The routine they’re developing has some major structural work that needs to be done, Logan is sure of it. They should also maybe plan their schedules better next semester. Maybe actually have a chart, so they’ll know where the other is - or is supposed to be. And only she could make him think of something that pathetically dorky. He hurries to explain before this can turn into something it’s not. “No, really. I have class until ten.” Steps closer to her. “But, uh, when I get home, we could write on ourselves. Get real political.”

He’s pretty sure he’s mollified her, when she says, “That’s what every girl likes to hear. ‘Darling, do all the weird crap you like, just don’t be late for the booty call.’” But then, she follows it up with, “Really, how do you think that sounds?”

And, they’re again in the realm where he’s lost. So he just touches her face, plays with a strand of her hair. “I think it sounds romantic.”

“You also think weightlifting is an actual class,” she retorts. He chuckles. “Now, I have errands. Do you want to come with me, or are you going to go find those girls, see what they need for their party?”

Not jealous at all. “Do these errands involve art or artists of any medium?” She stiffens, and he can tell she’s glaring at him from behind her sunglasses. “Kidding. I’d love to come with you.”

She relaxes, but not totally. He tucks her under his arm. “We’re taking my car,” she tells him.

“Where exactly are we going?”

Where they’re going, apparently, is a car wash. Veronica gives him a rundown about her attempts to track Weevil after he was sprung, and he’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the hurt in her voice that she even has to do such a thing. He doesn’t know how to tell her that coming back to her after something like that requires a certain flexibility in someone’s levels of pride. And Weevil, beyond everything else, has always been proud.

They pull up, and he can hear Weevil peevishly saying, “Guess I’ll go wash some spoiled bitch’s graduation present from Daddy, huh?” as they step out of the car on their respective sides.

“I’m not spoiled,” Veronica answers as he makes his way around the front of the car. He goes around the front, so he can see Weevil when Weevil sees Ronica. Weevil manages to both relax and tense up at the same time when he hears her voice. It’s almost impressive. “And it wasn’t for graduation,” she continues. 

“And, technically, her dad did end up paying for it,” Logan adds. That fact was a huge point of contention between them, Veronica still refusing to let him help her in the most basic ways, like making sure she had a decent, reliable car to drive. Spending the money she could have been saving instead. “But probably not in any way he expected to.”

Weevil nods. “How about the bitch part?”

“It depends who you ask,” she tells him, serious with just a side of playful. He walks over to join them at the car. “How are you, Weevil? I haven’t seen you...”

“Since that awkward ‘arrested for murder’ incident? I remember.” He pauses. “I heard about your pops. I’m sorry I missed the funeral. Sheriff was always real good to me.”

Veronica bites her lip, and Logan knows it’s to keep from crying. “Thanks,” she says a bit unsteadily. She shakes it off, like she does, and turns the conversation back to Weevil. “You plea-bargained down to assault?”

Weevil nods, and for the first time addresses both of them. “And now I’m working at the car wash. Which, as it turns out, is not as fun as the song might sound.”

Veronica’s phone rings, and she begs off for a second, leaving the two of them standing there, sizing each other up. “Learning anything good about waxing?” Logan asks.

“Yeah, that Mr. Miyagi was a sadistic bastard,” Weevil responds. “So, out of all the car washes in all the world, you two decide to use this one?”

He hesitates, not sure how much Veronica wants Weevil to know before she can tell him. Decides to go with another avenue. “Kind of. She’s having a hard time with it, you know?”

He nods, and Veronica is back before he can continue. “And, I’m being called in to see the dean of Hearst College.”

He can’t help but be concerned. Weevil’s the one who answers, telling her, “Leopard didn’t change her spots, I see. Wonder if Hearst knows about your -”

Whatever it is Weevil was going to say, and there’s a long list of possibilities (penchant for b&e, large and varied pool of informants, ability to ferret out secrets no one wants exposed, head tilt), they miss out on learning because Weevil proves that point Logan failed to make to Veronica earlier about pride. He can understand why, though. Guy who’s used to respect, working for a man who looks at him like chum in the water. It was never going to end well.

When Weevil is done acting like the thug even Logan knows he isn’t completely, he walks away from them, telling Veronica, “I didn’t change my spots either. Nice seeing you, Vee.”

She sighs, and looks at Logan, for what he doesn’t know. But he gives her a head nod, and she trots off after him. So he trots off after her. “Weevil!”

He whirls around. “What, Vee? What do you have to say that’s so important?” She shakes a little, and both Logan and Weevil look surprised. “Vee?”

Logan reaches out to steady her, and she leans into his touch. “I’m okay. I just - I haven’t, anyway. I have a proposition for you.” Looks at him hopefully.

Weevil’s jaw tightens. “Yeah? I don’t know how much I can do for you anymore. Contrary to what you just saw, I have no want to go back to jail.”

“Not that kind of proposition,” she denies. “I want to open Mars Investigations again. I need your help to do it.”

Weevil looks intrigued despite his best efforts. Logan ducks down his head to hide his grin. “Oh, yeah? What could I possibly do for you to help with that?”

“It’s not going to be for a little bit,” she tells him. “But I’d like to hire you. I need someone who I know, who I can depend on, to be the guy when I can’t. You know, do basically what I did, before.”

Logan watches Weevil puff up. After that first conversation where Veronica blew his mind by even suggesting Weevil was remotely capable of being dependable, she started doubting whether or not he’d even want to do it. Especially when, after she found out he got out, she couldn’t find him. Logan knew better. He’s glad to see he’s two for two today in that regard. He wishes he had as much insight into the inner workings of his girlfriend as he has to a guy he hates, though.

“You want me?” he asks.

Veronica shrugs. “Yeah. Like I said, it’s not going to be right away. I have to get my PI license, get some stuff in order, that sort of thing. So you’d have to find something in the meantime. But, I thought maybe it would be something you’d be interested in.”

Weevil grins at her. “And here I thought you didn’t care.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah. It’s a yes.” He looks back at the car wash. “Do me a favor. Let me know if you hear of anywhere else that’s looking to hire ex-cons. I’m gonna need a new job before my next meeting.”

“Will do.” She and he amble back to her car as Weevil leaves going the opposite way. “Well,” she tells him, “that went better than I expected.”

“What did you expect?” he asks, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

She turns and looks directly at him, trusting him to navigate their way back to the car. “You know, anger. Resentment. A bitter diatribe about how I like to play god. Maybe a bit about how he’s not a charity case.”

“Nah.” He kisses the top of her head, watching out for obstacles the entire time. “That’s what you’d get from me. Weevil’s just happy to be back with someone who sees him as more than a low life criminal.”

“You don’t know that,” she protests.

Yeah, he wants to say, I do. Instead he tells her, “Fine. It’s obviously because he’s desperate to alphabetize files. He’s really going to need that skill set when he returns to a life of petty thievery.”

Opens the door to the Saturn for her. Closes it once she’s in, and gets in his own side. He watches as she retreats into her private bubble on the drive back. He feels himself doing the same. He wants to open up, to tell her he knows how Weevil feels because he feels it too, but he doesn’t. Doesn’t want to open that part of himself up to her disbelief. Doesn’t want to start a fight about how what he feels and what he does aren’t always in congruence. Doesn’t want to be hit again with the feeling that he doesn’t quite measure up in her eyes. That she’s clinging to him only because he was there when Cassidy took away her stability, and the second she’s got something resembling solid ground under her feet she’ll be gone again. So, he turns on the stereo, and lets Neko Case drown out everything else.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue taken from the show courtesy of vmtranscripts.com

Logan grins when he sees her walking, quickly pulls into the parking space. Between his late nights and her early mornings, any time he can scrape together with her is good time. Honks to get her attention, and then pops out. “Hey! So, what am I? On a scale from one to ten?”

Veronica looks at him, bemused. “Uh, one. Seven? Four? Help me with some criteria?”

“Gentlemanliness? Look how I resisted the urge to wake you up when I got home for the booty call!” He feels giddy, like he’s getting a high from this unexpected Veronica exposure. That high takes a bit of a hit when he sees her unhappy smile. “What?”

“Just, I didn’t hear you come in last night. You were pretty late.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looks at her. “Uh, not really. You must have crashed pretty early.”

She purses her lips. “You know, my dad used to tell me I had a thing for unreformable bad boys.”

He lets loose a silent groan. Keith Mars, disapproving of him even from beyond the grave. Feels a little guilty over that assessment, but not guilty enough to take it back. It’s just hard to fight the distain from an always present spectral force, but he tries. Wants to make Veronica not feel like she’s disappointing her father by being with him. “What’s that have to do with me? I’m reformable, good, and a man.”

She huffs a little. “Dick said the class was a walk. You could have gone to that art thing.”

He’s going to kill Dick. “Dick said what? When?”

“Last night. We met up in the kitchen when he ate my dinner after I got back from the art exhibit. He told me it was a walk. You know, the five minute rule if the professor doesn’t show?”

“Oh. Dick’s idea of five minutes is like one. The professor showed.” 

“You mind showing me your notes?” He reassesses killing Dick. There’s going to be some torture first. 

“Forget it,” he tells her. “You’re not the first girl to be led astray by Dick.” He spins around in front of her, stops them from walking. “Hey, so you up for something tonight? Maybe Noam Chomsky's reading the Havana phonebook somewhere.”

She gives him a smile, tinier than he’s hoping for, but genuine nonetheless. “I’m stuck at work tonight. Maybe you could drop by. Bring me home afterward?”

He grins. “G-rated booty call in the library, followed by not g-rated booty getting in the house? Maybe I will.”

She grins back, and he walks her to class. And then makes plans to track down his wayward BFF.

“Dude,” Logan says when he catches up to Dick in the caf. “What did you tell my girlfriend?”

“When?” Dick looks genuinely confused.

Logan sighs. “When you ran into her last night in my kitchen, Dick. After you bailed on class because you have adult ADD. Where did you tell her I was?”

“Oh! I told her that you were banging other chicks.” Logan lets out a growl. “What? Dude, she couldn’t have believed me. She’s, like, smart.”

Mercer finds his way over the them, carrying a tray of food, and asks, “Who’s smart?”

“My girlfriend,” Logan answers. “Dick, remember when we were twelve, and we went to the carnival, and I won Veronica a goldfish?”

Dick nods. “Yeah.”

“And remember how you told her that goldfish get sad when they’re alone, and they cry little fishy tears, and then they die, and that’s why her fish never lasted more than a week?”

Mercer snorts. Dick beams. “Dude, yeah! That was a good one.”

“Yeah, Dick. It was great. Remember how I had to spend the rest of my day, trying to win her a second goldfish, because she was desperate to get Mr. French the Mrs. Frye he so obviously needed to avoid going to the porcelain toilet in the sky?”

“Wait,” Mercer stops him. “You’ve been dating the same girl since you were twelve?”

“No. We were just friends,” Logan tells him. “But she was depending on me to get Mrs. Frye because she ran out of money. And because she couldn’t get the frog to stay on the lilypad. It’s complicated.”

“Why didn’t you just tell her Dick was lying?” Mercer questions.

Logan sighs. “For any number of reasons, including the fact that I tried, and she gave me the lip wibble, and there’s no fighting that. Getting her the second fish was just easier.”

“Yeah, Ronnie’s lip wibble is wicked.” Dick turns to Logan. “Does she still do that?” 

“Only involuntarily,” Logan assures him. “Which is why it’s so bad. When the lip wibbles, shit’s going down.”

Mercer laughs at him. “Okay, man. Sounds like you’re completely pussy whipped.”

Dick slaps him on the back. “You have no idea, man. Ronnie’s had him wrapped around her finger for forever.”

“So,” Mercer tells him, “you’ve obviously got to break away for a bit. We’ve got a poker game going tonight. You have to be there.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Veronica’s working tonight.” The other two groan in unison. “What?”

“How are you even functioning, right now? I mean, she’s not here. And you’re still standing,” Mercer digs. “Dude. Have fun. We’re heading down to Mexico this weekend. You need to come with us before you turn into a middle aged man before you even hit legal drinking age. Because that would be sad. For you, for your girlfriend, and for your friends.” Mercer gestures in between himself and Dick, and both put on what he assumes are supposed to be puppy faces. “Us.”

He hesitates. A long weekend in Mexico actually sounds pretty incredible. But whatever’s going on between him and Ronnie is not, and he’s not sure if added closeness is necessary, or if a little bit of space would help. He thinks about that again, about who he’s dating. A little bit of space would almost definitely not help. “I don’t know about Mexico. She’s going through some stuff -”

Mercer groans. “Come on. She’s been going through some stuff all summer. You bailed on me twice already when it comes to Mexico. Just, take a weekend for you. Let her deal with her own shit for three days. It can be done.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” he tells them, not willing to get into the why nots of the situation with them. Not with Mercer, who doesn’t know Veronica. And not with Dick, who he can’t rip apart without feeling like he could have done more to keep Beaver from jumping and just didn’t because he wanted the kid dead. “I’ll be at the poker game, though.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue from the show courtesy of vmtranscripts.com

For the life of him, Logan doesn’t know why he doesn’t just call Veronica and tell her outright about Mercer’s poker game. It’s not the first time he’s played; but it is the first time he’s blowing off tentative plans with her to play, and that’s usually something he would make sure she knew about. Instead, he leaves her an oblique message about getting lucky, like he’s trying to push her buttons.

Maybe it’s because Mercer and Dick called him whipped. Maybe it’s because he feels a bit whipped, and he’s never thought of that as a bad thing and maybe he should. Maybe it’s the fact that she can so easily walk away, and he just, for once, wants to be the one who leaves her wondering. Maybe it’s because he’s a little pissed she could ever think Dick was telling her the truth, that he would ever want someone else when he has her. That he would ever cheat on her, after everything. Maybe it’s all of it. Maybe it’s none of it. Neither he nor Veronica have ever been that great at being self aware.

He’s actually having fun. Mercer is working the room, his table is hot, and he’s enjoying some harmless flirting with a couple of the women hanging around. He’s thinking about maybe inviting Veronica to the next one of these things, if she’s free, so she can wow everyone with her poker skills. 

Things start going downhill at the blackjack table. “You, my friend, appear to be in the proverbial catbird seat,” Mercer says as he sidles up to him.

Dealer wins, and Logan looks balefully at him. “Is that what they call the toilet these days?” Turns to the opening door, and sees his girlfriend staring at him. Grimaces. “Because that’s what I think I’m in.”

He gets up, and feels like he’s going to the gallows, even though he also thinks he should be getting righteously pissed off. “What are you doing here?”

Veronica looks around. “I was about to ask you the same question. Uh, let’s start out with where exactly here is.”

Mercer has followed him over, and of all the ways for someone to meet Veronica, Logan figures this is probably as good as any other. It’s definitely representative. “My room,” he offers. “Mercer. Mercer Hayes.”

Veronica spares him a glance. “Just Veronica.” Turns the best of her mournful glare back on him. “Is this why you stood me up?”

Mercer does the uncomfortable shift Logan has seen many a person do in Veronica’s presence. “Are you playing or is your seat...” He trails off.

“It’s free,” Veronica cuts in.

Logan can’t help the “Unlike me, apparently” that exits his lips. He decides to take the bull by the horns, and says, “Veronica, it’s not like I promised...” Stops. “Wait. How did you find me?”

Her glare hardens. “Easy. I just followed the pungent smell of money going to waste.”

“You traced my phone,” he realizes.

“Yeah.” She sounds righteous, not even the least bit defensive. Logan wonders about the rationalizations she has to tell herself in order for this to even begin sounding like a good idea.

Mercer, who is braver than Logan thought, interrupts, asks if they’d move their conversation outside. Veronica stops giving him her laser like focus for a second as she gets distracted by Mercer’s side conversation, and Logan uses that moment to try to calm down. When Veronica goes out into the hall, he follows her.

“I know we talked about you doing this, but I thought the fact that we had talked about it meant you were less likely to do it,” he tells her.

“You said you’d come by,” she tells him plaintively.

“Might come by,” he retorts.

“And then on your message, I heard all this partying and I wanted to know what was going on,” she explains further, and he curses himself for giving in to his baser impulses. He wanted a reaction. He got a reaction. And he can’t even be shocked that this is the reaction he got, because he does know who he’s dating. He’d be an idiot not to realize this was the probable result. And yet, he’s still ticked beyond belief, like he told her he would be.

“Yeah, and while I appreciate your interest, Big Brother, I hope-”

Veronica cuts him off, her pissiness rampaging through. “ Wow! A 1984 reference. Did you read that in weightlifting?”

“You know, your dad was half-right. You have a thing for bad boys, but, well, you don't want to reform them, you just get off on judging them.” He knows it’s a mistake the second he thinks it, but it’s already hurtling out of his mouth. She recoils, like he’s physically hurt her, and the want to comfort her wars with the part of him that just needs her to believe in him and is so incredibly pissed that she can’t give him that. 

He pauses, breathes for a second. Her lip wibbles, and he hates himself and Dick and her and Mercer, all of them, for having this be his life. “Listen, I’m sleeping in one of the guest rooms tonight, and I'm surfing in Mexico with Dick and Mercer this weekend. I'll fax you the coordinates so you don't incur any more cell-tracking charges, and I'll keep a journal of my bad thoughts in case you want to stick my face in a cage of rats when I get back.”

He stalks off, leaving her behind. 

He cools down before he even reaches his car.

He sleeps in the guest room, because he can’t make himself break down and go back to their room. He doesn’t want to be his mother any more than he wants to be his father, taking what is doled out to him like he deserves it. Still, he gets up in the middle of the night to check on her, and she’s not there. He finds her in the fourth and final room, curled in the overstuffed chair he decided he needed and then never sat in, wearing an old shirt of his. He finds a blanket, and tucks it around her.

She’s gone before he’s up in the morning. It feels like he’s punched himself in the throat, and then decided to punch himself in the stomach to distract from the pain of the throat thing.

Dick is in the living room, watching television and choking on his cereal as he laughs at whatever’s on screen. He mutes when he sees him. “Hey, dude, what’s up with you and Ronnie?”

“Did you see her?”

Dick nods. “Yeah. She was a wreck. Looked like she barely slept. But I meant, Mercer called me last night. Told me about her tracking you down.”

Logan plops on the couch. “I did a dick move. And then she countered with her own, and then we were yelling at each other in a dorm hallway.”

Dick shakes his head. “This is why I don’t have girlfriends. Too much drama.”

“Yeah,” he answers back sardonically. “That’s why you don’t have girlfriends.”

“Anyway,” Dick continues, “Mercer is coming over after his last class, and then we’re heading out. You clear everything with the missus?”

“I didn’t clear it so much as told her I was going,” he says.

Dick nods approvingly. “Awesome. Three days of sun, surf, sand, bodacious ladies, and all the alcohol money can buy. Nothing better.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Nothing.”

Three hours later, Mercer comes over. 

“Man,” he calls out, “you ready?”

Logan walks down the stairs. “I’m not going.”

Dick looks resigned, like he saw this coming. Mercer looks more than a little appalled. “Logan. Your girlfriend tracked you through your cell phone. You deserve a vacation from the crazy.”

Mercer calling Veronica crazy makes Dick start choking on the juice box he's sucking down, and Logan cracks a smile. “Yeah, but I don’t want a vacation from my girlfriend. I like being around her. I love hanging out with her. And I’m not going to run away to Mexico just because she pissed me off. And Mercer? Don’t call her crazy again.” He gives a little wave. “Have fun.”

Mercer and Dick head out to the car, and he can hear Dick saying, “Dude, it’s just how they roll. Don’t try to understand it. It’ll hurt your brain.”

He breathes out, and back in again. At some point, the schedule of his classes that he posted on the fridge has been joined by a schedule of Veronica’s classes and her work schedule. 

He takes a few hours, trying to work up the resolve to find her and talk to her. Comes to the help desk at the library around closing, in an attempt to atone for the botched g-rated booty call. Watches her distractedly handle a request, and then heads over himself. “Is this the help desk?” he asks, proud of his opening. She looks amazed, almost a little dazed. “Because I need a little help.”

She turns to him. “Let me guess: you have a girlfriend who becomes a weird, scary version of herself without any real provocation or explanation, and you’re hoping there’s a guidebook?”

“No. It’s more like... what’s one step beyond that?”

Veronica looks like she’s about to crumple. “I’m sorry, Logan.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why, I just... I lost it. And I freaked out, and I traced your phone and I planted a tracking device in your car, and I’m just... I’m so afraid of losing you that I’m going out of my mind. And I’m hurting you, but I swear, I don’t mean to. And I’m trying to stop, I am.”

He can’t help the smile he feels coming to his face. “You planted a tracking device in my car?”

“I took it out.” She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “I went momentarily crazy, and then I was talking to this girl I was helping and I realized - and so I took it out. But, I wanted you to know. Full disclosure.”

“Right.” He smiles a small smile. She answers it back.

“I thought you were in Mexico.”

“Well, clearly you took out your tracker too soon,” he teases. “Yeah. Us bad boys usually love Mexico. But I was feeling a bit reformed.” He grins at her. “I don’t even think Mercer surfs. And I always feel bad for those poor donkeys.” Veronica’s smile widens. “Are you free this weekend? There’s a film festival. Incomprehensible foreign movies of three-plus hours.” Waggles his eyebrows at her. She looks like she’s shining.

The g-rated library booty call gets thrown out the window in favor of its older cousin, the r-rated library booty call, on the dark and lonely top floor. Logan makes a note to visit Veronica more at work, if this is how things are going to progress.


	20. Chapter 20

He gets the idea after seeing how happy she was when he offered going to a film festival. And how giddy she was once they actually got to the festival. How much she enjoyed watching films he was completely incapable of following. He’d like to think his running commentary helped; but, truthfully, she seemed to just love the experience as a whole. 

Sometimes, he forgets that she’s not from the same stratosphere he is, wealth and experience wise. That she’s not used to making appearances at film festivals, and being dragged to art shows just to be seen. That she hasn’t been to Paris, or London. Her world is so much smaller than his is, and her joys are so much more uncomplicated than his are. The things he’s avoiding because he hated doing them with his parents, the things he’s avoiding because his parents’ access have made anything less than a-list paltry and amateurish, are things she’s never gotten to do at all.

“Come with me if you want to live,” Logan says after finding his girlfriend at a lunch table with Piz and Mac and Wallace and a girl he doesn’t know and doesn’t care if he’s introduced to. She scoffs at him, and bats his arm playfully. “No, really,” he tells her. “Come with me. I have a surprise for you.”

Veronica immediately stills. “What kind of surprise?”

“The kind of surprise that won’t be a surprise if I tell you.” He reaches out his hand. She offers him a soft smile and takes it. “You’ll like this, I swear.”

“Is there going to be food? Because you’re interrupting my afternoon grazing.”

“Grazing implies you’re just noshing,” he tells her. “You’re more like a hungry tiger. Only miniature. Are there teacup tigers? If there are, you should seriously consider having it be your totem.”

She smiling widely at him, like he’s obviously disturbed but that she likes it and is willing to go along for the ride. It’s a smile he throws her way a lot, too, so there’s that. “Are you on something right now?”

“Just happy,” he tells her truthfully. “And excited. Almost eager, I’d say.”

“Really,” she agrees. “I haven’t seen you this naturally tweeked out since Neptune Cinema showed the unedited New Hope on the big screen.”

“That was pretty incredible, especially after the disappointment of The Phantom Menace. But I think you’ll find that you’ll enjoy this a bit more.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy watching you and Duncan act out scenes in the lobby with those lightsabers Lilly and I got for you guys. Hearing you recite every line in the movie did get to be a bit much, though.”

“One thing I never understood,” he says. “You got me a blue lightsaber, right?” She nods. “And Lilly got Duncan a red one. Why?”

“Because I didn’t want Duncan to know I had a crush on him,” she tells him. “And Lilly went along with it.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out when we were fourteen,” he says drily. “I meant, why did you get me the saber of the Jedi, and why did Lilly get him the Sith one? Don’t try to get out of it by telling me you didn’t know, either.”

“Okay. I got you a blue one because you’ve always kind of reminded me of Luke. You’re someone who would break into a thing called the Death Star to rescue a captured princess and get bitched out once you got there, because Leia was definitely capable of rescuing herself. As much as we joked that you were evil, and as out of control as you got, you were always that guy for me then.” She pauses. “And Lilly got Duncan the red one because the plan was for him to become president, and she was joking that all politicians were evil.”

He’s grins bashfully at her explanation. “Really? I always saw myself as more of a Han Solo than anything else.”

“Han did what he did for a payday, at least at first,” she says. “You’ve always been an ‘action brings its own reward’ kind of person.”

He smiles at her more, and stops. “Okay, we’re here.”

Veronica looks at the building, brow furrowed. “What’s here?”

“Your surprise.”

“This building is the art gallery building,” she informs him. He nods. “There’s nothing going on in the art galleries this week. The last exhibit left two days ago, and the next one isn’t going to be up until next week.” He shakes his head. “Weevil was complaining about all the crates. I know of which I speak.”

“Are you going to keep trying to solve the mystery out here, or are you going to come inside and let me show you?” It’s a choice he shouldn’t have given her, because she actually seems to be pondering it. “Never mind. You don’t get a decision. We’re going in.”

He pulls her through the door, and toward a specific space. “Logan, it says ‘private’.” He gives her a second to think it through. “You’re who it’s private for?”

“Technically,” he says, “you are.” He opens the door, and leads her through.

On all the walls, his mother’s art collection hangs. Veronica gasps. Logan leaves her, goes to where he had the booze and food set out, pours her a glass of champagne, and hands it to her. “Logan. This - what is this?”

“You wanted to go to that art show, right? And I couldn’t go with you, and - I’ll be honest - probably would have tried to get out of going even if I could have. But I can make you an art show. And I can actually show off my expertise.” He stops. “You know, I took an intro to art history course our senior year. I like art. I’ve always liked it.” He looks down, shuffles his feet. “It’s something my mom and I both liked, that Aaron didn’t really get. It was our own private thing.”

She reaches for him, and grips his hand tightly in her own. “Thank you for this.”

He shrugs. “Anyway. These are all hers. I got them when - I had most of them put into storage, which is why they didn’t burn like everything else. And I thought, you like art. And I like art. And I still have this obscene amount of money. I could show you what she liked, and make it our own little private thing too.”

He shuffles a bit more, waits for her to say something, anything. She just stands there and stares brightly at him for what feels like an eternity. “You,” she finally says, sounding vaguely like she’s being strangled, “are sometimes the best.”

He gives her a second, sees if she’s going to finish that thought. “The best, what?”

“Just,” she swings his arm a little and pulls him close to her, kisses him, “the best. There’s no category. It’s just you.”

He can feel himself blushing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well,” he decides to move on from that, before he does something ridiculous and foolish and crazed, like propose. “There’s finger food and refreshments over there. And I had them set up the galleries by -isms, and then displayed on the walls according to when she acquired them. I think it helps set the balance of her evolution as a collector.”

She nods. “Okay.”

He squeezes her hand. “Okay, so I suggest we start at the beginning, when Lynn Lester first discovered she had money to spend and decided to buy a little post-impressionist work of the Sacre Coeur from some street artist who set up shop, appropriately enough, behind the Sacre Coeur. As you can see from the brush strokes, he may or may not have had a drug problem.” 

Veronica’s laughs echo through the gallery as he continues to tell her about the paintings. He watches her light up as he points out the works he likes, and the works he abhors, listens to her thoughts on his mom’s tastes as well. This, he thinks, may be the best date he’s ever been on. It’s a couple of hours of them, eating and drinking, mocking some of the paintings, being in awe of others. 

Sometimes, they separate. Veronica gets sucked in to different paintings than he does, and after standing there, staring at a girl staring at a flower for a minute and a half, he wanders away to an abstract one of a black square inside a bigger, blacker square. They always gravitate back toward each other.

He’s looking at a painting Aaron helped his mother pick out, a painting by the son of a director he’d wanted to work with. It isn’t a bad piece, not by any stretch. But Logan wants to rip it down off the walls and smash it to pieces. It’s yet another example of his father bullying his way into every aspect of their lives. For some reason, this painting, this memory, brings up echoes of Lilly. How his father managed to worm his way into every moment he had with her as easily as he manipulated one of the only passions his mother cultivated separate from the rest of them. As if she sees the black clouds spiraling down, Veronica is there, her hand tucking itself into the crook of his arm.

“Come with me,” she whispers, pulling him away. He comes with her without resistance. She stands him in front of a painting he doesn’t remember. It’s post-impressionist, he knows that much. A thatched roof house, and two people off in the distance. 

“I like it,” she says seriously. He looks at her. 

“What do you like about it?” It’s the game he and his mother used to play, and he’s more than willing to play it with her.

She tucks a stray piece of her hair behind her ear as she continues to stare at it. “It’s peaceful.”

He walks behind her, tucking her neatly in his arms, rests his chin on her head. “I like it too.”

“It’s yours?” 

He squeezes her gently. “They’re all mine.”

“But - could you take it?”

“Yeah,” he tells her. “I can do whatever I want with them.”

She leans back into him, and even though he can feel her there, she’s also miles away as well. “Can we bring it home with us?”

He smiles, rubs his face in her hair. “I’ll have someone put it in its box. Have it delivered later. Where do you want to hang it?”

“Our room,” she tells him.

He looks back at the painting, at the two people in the distance. “I think it’ll fit.” They pause, staring into the world where just a house and two people exist. “I’m thinking, after we’re done with our date, offering this up as a temporary exhibit,” he confesses.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she tells him. “Some of these works are really beautiful. And they’re all something she liked. It’s nice for them to be seen.”

He squeezes her again, and she snuggles into it. “We have dessert here.”

She gasps, pulls away from him. “You had dessert, and you waited until now to tell me?”

“I’m an evil bastard.”

She smiles at him. “Don’t I know it.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

It’s not like he didn’t know how the conversation with Avi was going to go, in the abstract. The guy was less than happy when Logan made it clear that he was going to be supporting his girlfriend. Still, he’d thought that the fact he was being less frivolous with the money overall, that he had stopped frittering away large chunks of it on shit he didn’t even remember by the end of the week, would help him when he called the meeting to discuss the fact that he had less money than he should.

It is beyond galling to get lectured by the man on how to best manage his assets. He knows he’s a spendthrift, gets to hear this same basic point from his girlfriend on an almost weekly basis. But he knows how much money he has available and he knows how much money he spends. It’s a nice little set up, that checks and balances system, where he has the money coming in on one side and the money he is sending out on the other. Whoever came up with it should get a gold star. Which is what he tells Avi, countering his condescending drivel with, “I’m not saying I deserve more. I’m saying there’s money missing.”

When Avi says, “It’s complicated”, Logan knows his tried and true belief about adults - the Veronica in his head is quick to tell him they are adults, now, no matter how much he tries to battle it or deny it - is true. Weak, corrupt, or cruel. He figures Avi is good on all three.

“Alright, then, I’ll talk to my lawyer, see if he can’t figure it out.” He wonders what Cliff knows about financials, figures that it’s probably not much.

Avi seems to know the lawyer he’s thinking of, because he quickly tells him, in the vein of the lecture, “I’ll do you one better. We’ll send all your financial records right over.”

This is going to be fun, Logan sourly contemplates. And when the records arrive and take up a corner of their living room, thinks it again, this time gleefully. He needs a PI. He knows a PI. He’s thinking that sleeping with the PI will get a bit knocked off of the going rate. And, as an added bonus, he may stymie that very cute, very tenacious PI until she’s able to figure out what’s wrong. Win, win, win.

He’s still skipping along when he meets up with her, and swings her around. She laughs and goes along with it. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh, really?” She smiles up at him, plays coy. “And whatever would that be?”

He cheerfully bops her nose. “That, my darlingest, is a surprise.”

“Am I going to like it?”

“You know, I’m not sure.”

She pesters him the whole way back to the house, something he saw coming and enjoys profusely. “Is it a leprechaun? A plant? A small child you found so we can pretend we’re an 80s sitcom?”

He grins at her rapid fire questions. “The answer lies right behind this door.”

She pauses. “You’re not showing me porn?”

“No.” He has the briefest of moments where he wonders if she would be into that. Shakes it off.

“Is it a fuzzy, new born kitten?”

He sighs, decides to spill instead of getting stuck on the doorstep all night. “Look, the meeting with Avi Kaufman, bean counter to the stars, didn't go very well. My trust fund's evaporating faster than it should. I think he's skimming off the top.”

She pauses. “Okay. My dad had a great accountant, for the business, so -”

“I'm thinking I need more of a private detective to help me nail this guy to the wall.” He opens the door, ushers her in.

Veronica shrugs, all helpful. It’s the moment he’s been waiting for since he crafted this plan. “Well, show me the records. I'm sure I can make sense of -”

The complete faltering of confidence when she catches sight of the stacks of boxes is so profound, Logan can’t help but smirk. “Go get ‘em, Bobcat.”

She walks up to them, staring like they’re going to attack her. “These are your records?”

He nods. “Yeah. Everything. I’m thinking Avi is trying to bury me in the mire so I give up."

“Well,” she tells him, resolute, “we’re not going to.”

It’s corny as all get out, but it’s moments like these when he feels nothing but a deep and pervading swell of love for Veronica. An emotional response so big, it blocks everything else out. It’s also when he likes to needle her the most, because otherwise he'll give everything away. “By ‘we’, you mean -”

She mock glares at him. “I mean me. And thanks for this, by the way.”

He kisses her temple. “I put our entire financial future in your incredibly tiny but still remarkably capable hands.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

She’s diligent in going through the records, just as he knew she would be. She’s chewing thoughtfully on her lip and knee-deep in paper after a long day of classes and work while he makes dinner for them when Dick bursts in and heads straight toward her. Logan has a moment of panic when he thinks the guy is going to disturb one of the carefully created stacks, and sees - like it’s actually happening in front of him - the Tarantino-esque reaction that would evoke from Veronica. Luckily, for Dick, for Veronica, for the records, he skids to a stop before that happens.

He’s definitely a man on a mission, though, because he doesn’t even glance toward Logan before launching into his verbal assault. “Hey, buddy! I need your help.”

Veronica doesn’t even look up. “Not now, Dick.”

Logan hides his grin as Dick continues, undisturbed. “You saw that article about the Pi Sig house, right? That girl Claire gets raped after one of our parties, and suddenly, school's all in a bunch. There's like this hearing scheduled to try to get us kicked off campus, and that's where you come in.”

Brow furrowed at something on the sheet, still not looking up, she quips, “I get to do the kickin’?”

Dick grins. “You get to be the spy who loves me. The guys were really impressed with how you cleared the frat of the rape last year.”

Veronica finally looks up for a second before returning her attention to the evidence of his problem. “Were they? That means so little.”

“You cleared a frat of rape?” Logan can’t hide his amusement. “A frat that asked one Richard Casablancas to join?”

“I cleared Troy Vandegraff of rape,” she corrects, and somehow, that tidbit makes the amusement peel off in a hurry. “The frat getting cleared was an unfortunate consequence of the investigation.”

“You saw Vandegraff?” 

Veronica huffs, taking her attention away from his financials for the first time since she dove in that night. “Yes. He was checking out Hearst. I was checking out Hearst for and with Wallace. One thing led to another, and I was his one call.” She grants him a fond little grin. “You think you’re the only one I pick up for in those situations?”

“Thought, no. Hoped, yes,” he snarks back. “But I never thought Vandegraff would be on your list.”

“Yeah, well, it was a surprise to me too.” She sighs and rubs her face before looking back at the surrounding paper. “I can’t make heads of this right now. Let alone tails.”

He shrugs. “Take a break.”

“Yeah,” Dick breaks in. “Take a break, and maybe take a new case. The Pis knew we had, like, this connection. So, they asked me to hire you. We need you to do your Veronica thing and prove it's a pack o' lies.”

Her eyes focus on Dick. Logan thinks of that look as the equivalent to Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth. He’s never been able to evade it. “Is it? A pack of lies?”

Dick looks at her like she’s stupid. “We’re a frat. Why rape the cow when you’re swimming in free milk?”

Veronica snorts, but looks as far from amused as a person can be. Logan breaks in. “Great metaphor, there, Dick. Really amping her up to help you.”

“Thanks,” Dick says cheerfully.

“Maybe you guys should hire someone you don’t disgust,” she tells him as she gets up and starts reorganizing the records.

“They don’t care about the disgusted thing,” Dick returns amiably. “They want you.”

Logan can see the wheels turning in her head, knows that this is somehow about more than Dick and his frat, and is powerless to stop it. “I'll need full access to the fraternity. I need to know everything about the night of the haunted house. My fee is fifteen hundred up front.”

Dick looks at her with disbelief. “Really? That’s what you make?” 

Veronica smirks. “That’s the Pi Sig rate.”

He turns to Logan. “How much does she charge you?”

He just grins and shrugs. “I don’t get charged. Never have.”

“He gets what we in the business call the friends and family discount,” Veronica offers as a rejoinder. “You and the Pi Sigs are neither. And I’m going to need you to leave my presence, right now, before I change my mind.”

Logan watches Dick run out of the house like Veronica has sicced Backup on him, and grins at their antics. “Aw, you care. You really care.”

“Yeah,” she tells him drily as she makes her way to the island. “I care about getting information so I can find the person who’s been raping those women. I want him to pay. And if Dick and his frat want to give me full access, all the better.”

Logan leans toward her. “So, you think they did it?”

“It seems strange they would hire me if they did. But it’s possible one of them is responsible and the rest either don’t know. Or are stupid enough to think I won’t catch them.” She snags a piece of pepper. “What are you making?”

“Just some tortellini with a light tomato sauce, and a salad to start.”

“You’re such a good homemaker.”

“Yeah, I try. I thought you were hinting at something when you gave me cookbooks as a moving in present.”

“And I thought you were hinting at something when you gave me lingerie,” she tells him.

“I was.” She laughs. “Listen, I want you to take me with you when you start investigating these things.”

Veronica moves over to his side of the island, hugs him close. “I promise, if I do anything dangerous, you’re my first call.”

“Hmm... Is that what a normal person would consider dangerous, or is it according to the Veronica Mars rubric?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “My rubric.”

“Yeah. Try using the normal person’s rubric for when I should be involved.” She stiffens in his arms. “I’m not saying don’t do dangerous things. I mean, I would if you would listen, but you won’t. So I don’t. I’m just saying, when you do dangerous things, maybe keep me in the loop.”

“Okay.” Her voice is soft and low.

“I just - I can’t lose you. Okay?”

“I said okay.” He can’t explain it, but there’s an aura of discomfort around them now. He just hugs her tighter. She seems to pick up on it too, because she follows that up with, “I will, when I think I’m in trouble. Or when I think I’m going to be doing something that is trouble. But the Pi Sigs hired me. Dick hired me. I don’t think any of them are going to try something.”

He releases her. Wishes he could shove her in a mountain of bubble wrap. Wishes he could develop some sort of technology that would glow blue or something when she got near someone she couldn’t trust. But all he has is this hope that she’s going to be fine, and that she’ll reach out to him when she might not be. It’s a hard hope to hold on to, given the amount of historical evidence to the contrary.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

“Alright,” she tells him the next day. “I’ve got Dad’s old accountant looking over your records, because as it turns out, actually majoring in accounting is helpful when it comes to things like this. She should be done some time tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright. What does that mean?” Logan looks at her. “And what are you wearing?”

“Bland is the new hot.” She sits and grabs at some cereal. “And it means that once she’s done, if there are discrepancies I can look into them from there. Her job is to find out if there are discrepancies.”

“Two things: you’re wrong, hot is still the new hot. And what happens if there are discrepancies?”

“I follow the money, honey lips.” She kisses him and Logan smiles into it. She pulls away. “And good to know about what’s hot. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Seriously though, what’s what the get up?”

“You’re looking at the outfit of a woman entering a den of sex-crazed frat boys.”

He stills. “That today?”

“Yup.” Veronica stretches. “And I want to look as unappealing as humanly possible. How’d it go?”

“Well, I’d still do you,” Logan tells her. “But that’s just on principle, you being my girlfriend and all.”

She smirks. “Exactly what I’m going for. Principled doings only.”

“I can come with you, you know.”

“I know. And as much as I appreciate your body guarding, I think I’ll get better results if they’re not afraid that you’ll kill them.”

“What should I do instead?”

She shrugs. “Go to class? Wait for me to get information to bring back?”

He sighs, and kisses her. “Call me the second you need anything, got it?”

“Sir, yes sir.” She salutes him.

“I’m serious.”

“Hey,” she catches his arm. “So am I. The second I’m worried about my personal safety, I’ll be ringing your number so fast, your phone will spin.” She gets serious. “I heard what you said, before. I’m trying.”

“Okay. That’s all I ask. I’m off to campus.”

“Sweet! You can give me a ride.”

He grins at her. “Sounds like a perfect arrangement.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

Logan is sitting at the table the next day when Veronica comes in from their bedroom. “I spoke to my dad’s accountant. Your business manager doesn't appear to be stealing anything. The Echolls estate contributes ten thousand dollars a month to an organization called Aaron's Kids, and that's where the missing money is going.”

“And Aaron's Kids? Is that my dad's pathetic excuse for a charity?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you knew about Aaron’s Kids,” Veronica replies. “I think this may be one of those discrepancies.”

“Alright, so, what do we do now?”

“I get to work researching what your dad could have a charity for. You can go out and bring me dinner. I’m thinking Thai.”

He bends down, kisses her, saying, “What my lady wishes, my lady shall have” before leaving. 

It takes longer than he expects, so when he gets back he says, “Hey, I'm sorry it took so long. I went out for Thai and ended up getting a massage. You should have been more specific.”

Veronica barely pays him any attention, redirecting his focus back to his case. “Your dad's charity, Aaron's Kids, was a non-profit corporation that shut down years ago. Aaron's Kidz, spelled with a Z, is still in business, however. Its chairman is Avi Kaufman, your dad's business manager, and this Aaron's Kidz isn't even remotely a charity.”

“Well, what is it?” He drops the food on the table next to here.

Veronica’s brow is furrowed. “I’m honestly not sure. It looks like it’s meant to hide a money trail. I’m going to have to do some digging to see where it goes.”

Logan looks at her, in a kind of awe he’s felt more times around her than he thinks is healthy. “What do you need?”

She’s staring absently at her screen, and says, “A whiteboard.”

“A whiteboard?”

She blinks. “Yeah. I want to be able to write down what I think is relevant information and then connect it all.”

He shakes his head in amusement. “This is just you trying to live out your FBI dreams isn’t it?”

“I like to visualize the web, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. We can definitely pick one up for you. Or,” he thinks, “you could add it to your expenses for the Pi Sigs.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t discuss expenses with Dick.”

“You’re going to have to start. I mean, all that gumshoing is messing up your footwear.”

“You think you’re so clever.” She’s smiling at him like she thinks he’s clever too.

He gives her a head tilt. “Only because I am.”

She stretches. “Okay, here’s the deal: we eat the Thai, we go to bed, and tomorrow we pick me up a white board, potentially with Dick’s drinking money. Then, I solve the mystery. What do you think?”

He pauses, tries to look as if he’s seriously considering it. “Good deal.”

They don’t get around to discussing his money issues again until the next day at lunch, in the campus food court. “Hey, you think I should dangle Kaufman out of a window by his ankles?”

Veronica doesn’t even pretend to be appalled. He likes that in a woman. “How 'bout you numb your fury with grease and fat, until I can do a little more homework?”

“Reason, huh? Not sure I like it.”

She looks out beyond him, and he can tell that he’s lost her. “Here's a fun thing to say to your beau. Mind if I go put the screws to someone?”

He shrugs. “Go ahead. Screw your brains out.”

She kisses him on the cheek before she walks away, and he continues to eat. He doesn’t really pay attention as she harasses some guy or another about the rape case. Doesn’t really want to. If he’s completely honest, he’s got to say he’s not too happy about her pursuing this one. He knows he didn’t know about her own rape until well into a year after it happened, that they didn’t truly know it was rape until almost two. But he knows she’s having nightmares, bad ones, and he just wants her safe. All of her, mind included. And unfortunately, he thinks, as she joins him back at their table, in order for her mind to be settled, the guy has to be caught.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com

He knows it’s serious when she walks outside and drops down in one of their too expensive according to her lawn chairs, but he jokes anyway. “Perfect timing. I think Lonely Telescope Guy is getting tired of me just mooning him.”

“Logan,” she starts hesitantly, sounding like someone else, someone who doesn’t race head first into uncovering secrets, who doesn’t jump to startling and sometimes incorrect conclusions, “I need to talk to you. I followed the trust money all the way down the rabbit hole. The payments are going to a person named Charlie Stone. Do you know who that is?”

He looks at her, concerned. “No. Should I?”

His answer clearly doesn’t make her any happier, and he’s left wondering for a second what in the world would make Veronica less happy about him not keeping a secret from her than the other way around. “Yeah, probably. Charlie Stone is your brother.” He collapses in the lawn chair next to her. She grabs his hand, anchoring him to her. He’s glad. He feels like he could float away, otherwise. “Your dad's business manager buried him pretty deep. You weren't supposed to find out. No one was. I googled him. All I learned was that he teaches at a private school, in San Juan Capistrano, but he is in the book.”

He stares at her in complete disbelief. She hands him a piece of paper she wrote the number on. “What am I supposed to do?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“Well, what would you do?” He looks to her for guidance. He can tell she has none to give.

“I don’t know, Logan. I - I don’t know what I would do. What do you want to do?”

He fiddles with the paper, mindful of ripping it even though it’s not like Veronica can’t simply write it out again for him. “I’m not sure, honestly. I mean, he has to know I exist, right?”

Veronica slips herself into his chair, and hugs him to her. “Maybe. Maybe he just never thought about getting in contact with you.”

“Maybe he believes the tabloids,” he softly tells her.

She stiffens. “His loss, then.” 

He stares at his hands, her tinier one wrapped within them. “You think?”

“I know,” she answers him. She snuggles into him, and they sit there silently for a long while. When she gets up and heads to the couch to go to sleep, he stays outside, gripping the paper in his hand again. When he finally decides to call, he is more nervous than he has been about anything in a good long while. He’s not sure what to expect, thinks he’s probably just going to get blown off; so when Charlie calls him back, he gets excited.

He’s more excited when Charlie comes over to the house, when they sit around and he gets to hear about his half-brother’s normal life. Tries not to think about the could have beens of his own life, hearing about how Aaron payed out but never stopped by. Thinks of all the hospital visits avoided, the broken bones never reset. The belts, the cigarettes, the random acts of violence that had no rhyme or reason never coming to pass. How much better life could have been if Aaron were a father in the abstract. It’s beyond impossible to explain that to someone else, though. Someone who thinks their own existence is lacking. 

Veronica comes in as Charlie is leaving; and even through his excitement, he can see her suspicious face. He ignores it. Knows better than to confront it. If there’s something to be found, she will. And if there’s nothing, she’ll never mention it. Good system all around.

The next morning, he’s gone before she is awake, but he presses a kiss to her head.

Logan is regaling Charlie with stories from his childhood about Aaron, mostly bad, and he feels like there’s a weight being lifted. Veronica knows most of them. They play a game after she has had a nightmare sometimes. Other times, it's when he needs desperately to get something off his chest. Little by little, they reveal the darkest bits of themselves. There's something different about sharing these bits with someone so unconnected to him, but deeply connected all the same. There's something different in talking these things out with someone who has the luxury of 'but for the grace of God'. Someone who may have to worry about the same violent tendencies making their way into his fists too. Veronica worries about becoming an alcoholic, about abandoning the people she loves. He worries he has it in him to kill her. 

He sees her on the beach waiting for them and it feels like the first time he saw her all over again. Steers them both over to her, telling Charlie, "Quick, Jim, hide the hookers!"

He knows before he reaches her something's wrong. She's tense and brittle. "Hi, Logan. Hi, Norman Phipps."

Just like that, it's over. She tells him, hard as glass, about Norman Phipps. When he punches the guy, Not-Charlie, it doesn't feel nearly as good as he thinks it should. Veronica is by his side at an instant, ignoring his bout of violence with the grace of someone who wishes she could have done it herself.

“Come on,” she tells him, pulling him along. “I’ve got us a date with the real Charlie Stone.”

He still feels shell shocked. “What?”

“I figured, we need to all sit down and have a chat.” Her voice is still hard. Despite himself, Logan worries for Charlie Stone, both real and fake. “We need to take steps. And we need to figure out how this happened.”

He lets her bully him into his car’s passenger side, and watches the world go by as she drives them to this rendezvous point.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

It’s more awkward than he imagined, remeeting his half-brother for the first time. Charlie’s wife flits around the kitchen. Veronica sits by his side, stone faced and silent.

“I didn’t give him anything, I promise you,” Charlie tells them, and Logan nods dumbly. “I don’t know how this could have happened.”

Veronica leans forward. “He tapped your phone.” Charlie’s wife, whose name didn’t stick in this most recent of shake ups, stops flitting. Charlie stares. Logan feels his first grin start to emerge. This is his Veronica.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“He tapped your cell phone,” Veronica enunciates, like the problem could have been that she didn’t speak clearly enough. She half turns so most of her focus is on Logan. “It’s what I would do.”

“Who are you?” Charlie’s wife asks, sinking in the seat beside her husband. 

Veronica gazes at them from across the table, cold and aloof. “Veronica. Mars.” Jerks her head in his direction. “His girlfriend.”

“And that lends itself to tapping cell phones, how?” Charlie asks her. She huffs out a sigh, like this is an unreasonable point of inquiry. In Neptune, now, it kind of is.

“My dad was a private investigator. I learned the tools of the trade.”

“But why would anyone tap a phone? Our phone?” Charlie’s wife asks pitifully. He pats her hand. Logan wants to shoo her away.

“You can get a lot of information about someone through their cell phone. If you mirror someone’s SIM card, you can have access to every call they make, every voicemail they leave, every voicemail they receive. My bet is that Norman Phipps did that, and that’s how he got Logan’s number.” She goes completely still, stares directly at Charlie. “If you’re telling us the truth, that is.”

Charlie nods, looking startled at her intensity. Glances at Logan, “Yeah, I was. Truthful.”

Veronica nods back, and her mouth goes into a line. “Okay then. What we have to decide is what to do with Norman.”

Logan nods. Charlie stares at them uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean, ‘do with Norman’?”

Veronica turns away from Charlie, looks at Logan only. Logan turns away from the table as well, so all he can focus on is her. “How far do you want to push this?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, because even though he knows her methods, he doesn’t quite understand what she wants him to do.

She bites her lip. “How much did he get out of you?”

“He wanted to know about Aaron. About growing up with Aaron. I told him.” Charlie’s expression doesn’t change, because Charlie doesn’t know, because he told a fake Charlie. But Veronica blanches.

“Okay.” She looks down and then back up at him. “Are you comfortable going nuclear?”

He nods. “Yeah. I am.”

“This means you’re going to have to -”

“I know what it means,” he interrupts, willing to do or say anything that removes the sad pity from her face.

“We don’t know what that means,” Charlie cuts in, his wife white and clutching his arm.

“It means I go and find the biggest megaphone I can,” Logan states curtly, “and I blast him and his story to high heaven by giving someone else the scoop.” He watches his half-brother’s wife go into mild hysterics. Turns away and sees Veronica watching with a strange revulsion.

“You can’t do that! You can’t! Our lives will be ruined!”

“Annie,” Charlie calms her. “It’s okay.” He turns his attention back to Logan and Veronica, and Logan can feel the headache that has already taken hold growing in size. “There has to be another way. This will uproot my life, my livelihood -”

Veronica is the one who cuts him off, telling him hotly, “Your life is going to be uprooted no matter what! There’s going to be a shit storm no matter what. Don’t you understand that? The only thing we can control is when it falls and who gets credit.”

Annie bursts into tears and Veronica sighs a sigh that means she’s upset she’s being inconvenienced by the petty emotions of others. He smiles at her and presses a kiss to her head. Charlie looks overwhelmed. “What do you mean?”

Veronica shakes her head at him, like she can’t believe anyone is this dim. “Norman got the story he came looking for. He knows all about you. So, he didn’t get to interview you. Your existence is the story, not who you are. And he did get to interview Logan. And Logan’s life is the story. So, you’re all screwed. And what we can do is stop Norman from screwing us over when it happens, or let him win.”

“And I’m not letting him win,” Logan tells them.

Annie sniffles and glares at Veronica with actual malice. “Don’t you care what this will do to us?”

“No,” Veronica flippantly replies, and Logan hides his face in her hair so they don’t see his grin. She ignores him. “I don’t care about you at all, honestly. Maybe I would, under other circumstances. But right now, my concern is Logan. You’re so worried about your normal life? He never got that. So be grateful you led a normal existence for this long. You don’t know how lucky you’ve had it.”

He loves her. He loves her so much it hurts. He loves her so much for getting it, when no one else does. And her white knighting is so much more impressive than his own. 

“You have a choice,” he tells Charlie after he pulls away from Veronica, ignoring Annie for the time being, and only partially because of the too-cutesy, rhyminess of their names. “You can come with me, do the interview with me. Or, you can give me your blessing, and we’ll figure out how to best insulate you from the fall out. Or, you can not do that, and Veronica and I will figure out how to handle this ourselves. Just be warned, Ronnie believes in napalming things.”

Charlie breathes out. “How bad would it be, if Norman published what he has?”

“It would be bad.” Logan stops there. Veronica nods.

His brother sighs. “Alright. What do you want to do?”

Logan turns back to his girlfriend. “Ronica?”

She looks hard at Charlie. “I want you to do the interview with him. I don’t want him going out there by himself.” Logan puffs up a bit under her worry. Charlie nods. “Logan, call Larry King. Tell him you’re done with your cone of silence and he’s who you want to talk to, as soon as possible. Tell him that this is a one time deal.” Logan nods.

“What do they say when they go on though?” It’s Annie, who still looks like she resents how her life has become a circus in hours.

Logan laughs. “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. I’ll be charming. I’ll be funny. I’ll tell them about my trust fund, and how it led me to Charlie. And then we’ll tell them about how all Charlie wanted to do was live a quiet life, and how, because he didn’t want to be turned into cannon fodder, a reporter impersonated him and got to me.”

“It’ll be like the plot from a zany comedy,” Veronica breaks in grimly.

“Yeah. Exactly like that.”

Annie shudders. Charlie looks a bit ill himself. “Alright.”

Veronica stands. “I’ll call you with the details once we have everything set in stone.”

Logan stands up too, nods at Charlie. “Listen, I’m sorry about all this. If I had any idea, I wouldn’t have called.”

“Why did you call?” He sounds angry, and self-righteous. It’s amazing he fit that much derision into four words.

Logan stops. Veronica looks concerned, grabs his hand. “I wanted to get to know my family. I wanted to know who my brother was.” He turns to go, leaves it at that.

“It was nice meeting you,” Annie calls out gamely to them as they exit, and Veronica snorts. Logan laughs at her.

“You are the rudest person imaginable,” he says.

Veronica shrugs. “What can I say? It was not nice to meet them.” He gives a whole body shrug, breathes some of the anger and tension away. She grows quiet. “I’m so sorry. I should have just left it alone.”

“No,” he contradicts. “I’m glad you went digging. Aside from the fact that it erases all romantic notions I had of them, it was also something that was going to come out sooner or later. You’re just a super sleuth. So it came out sooner.”

She looks unconvinced. “I guess.”

Logan opens up the car door for her, waits for her to slide in, and then leans into her space. “I know. There’s always a reporter, Veronica. There’s always someone digging for a story. Aaron didn’t die in obscurity, and he’s got enough of a following that someone else would have tracked down Charlie Stone at some point or another.” He kisses her softly, revels in the feel of her, of her concern. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She smiles tentatively back. “I’m all sorts of helpful.”

He grins, and walks around to his side of the car. Starts it. “I was hoping you could bust some of that out again after Larry King and help me find Norman Phipps.”

“Why?” He spares her a glance. She looks aghast.

“Well, I gave him a pocket watch that belonged to my grandfather, the only decent member of my family. 'Course, he died when I was five, so who knows. Still, kinda burns thinking of Norman having it.”

She frowns, and nods at him. “In my world, the wicked don’t get parting gifts.”

“Come on, you,” he tells her fondly. “Let’s go home.”


	27. Chapter 27

Veronica tells him to pick up Charlie on the way to the studio for his grand debut on Larry King. So he does. Charlie gets in stiffly. They ride almost the entire way in silence. When they get closer and the crowds push in, Charlie breaks it. “I told your girlfriend I could drive myself over. I’m kind of glad she overrode me now.”

Logan doesn’t look at him, trying hard to ignore the impulse to hit the people with the ‘Aaron Lives’ signs with his car. “Yeah?”

Charlie continues. “She’s terrifying.”

Logan snorts. “You have no idea.” He doesn’t elaborate. After Not-Charlie, he thinks he may come around to Veronica’s position of reticence after all. He lets the conversation lapse back into silence as he pulls onto the lot. Charlie presses on.

“You do this a lot?”

Logan grimaces. “What, give interviews about what a fuckface my father was, and then out someone who seems like a reasonably nice guy as my half-brother?”

Charlie looks uncomfortable. “No. Come to these places.”

“Not so much any more,” Logan tells him. “I stopped when I got old enough that I wasn’t just the cute kid on set, but just another guy dear old dad had to compete with for attention. And, you know, now there’s just no reason to.” He finds a space, pulls in.

“So, how are we going to handle this?” Charlie is looking to him for advice, like he’s the expert. He’s kind of wishing he’d taken Veronica up on her offer to come along, but he had decided he didn’t want to throw her to the sharks. He wanted to do this himself.

“The plan is for me to do most of the talking. When Larry asks you a question, be personable, answer it honestly, but be vague. Don’t talk about things you don’t want follow up questions about. We’re here to emphasize that we got played, that we got taken advantage of, and that the thing both of us want for you is your privacy to be respected.”

Charlie looks stunned. “What about for you?”

The bitterness that Logan feels stretches out from the base of his spine. He can taste it on the back of his tongue. “I don’t get privacy. And I’m playing mostly by those same rules.”

“What about Veronica?”

Logan doesn’t realize he’s moving until Charlie’s nose is close to his own. “Don’t even think about talking about Veronica.”

His half-brother’s stunned look deepens. “How are we supposed to -”

“I have an accountant. That accountant looked into discrepancies. There you were. Done.”

Charlie nods, finally lets the conversation fall back into silence. The rest of the evening passes like some sort of blur. He knows he walks out with Charlie, makes nice with Larry. They chat about the trial, a little about Lilly - and that doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates, about Growing Up Echolls, and then they move on to Charlie. The only thing Logan can remember saying is the line Veronica drilled into his head, the line they discussed ad nauseum that makes anyone who goes after Charlie look like a douche and makes him look like a sympathetic figure. - “He’s the real victim here, my brother. He got dragged into this through no fault of his own. Just because some reporter decided to make a name for himself, he now has to deal with all this.”

Larry’s follow up is something about him, and he turns it back into how he’s had to deal with this type of limelight the entirety of his life; but Charlie, he hasn’t. 

The one thing he remembers someone else saying is Charlie, telling Larry, “It’s really odd, to contemplate having this become something for public consumption. I’ve lived knowing about who my dad was for a long time, but didn’t have to deal with any of the more negative aspects. Logan is helping me through it. It’s strange, I’m older; but in some ways, he’s taken on the role of big brother.” He’s startled by it, because it sounds almost truthful. He guesses it kind of is, if bullying someone into action through a smart blonde is something an older brother would do.

Afterwards, they walk back to his car. He’s hunched over, mostly to avoid making it easy on anyone who’s trying to take his picture. Charlie walks through ramrod straight, like he’s dealing with the aftereffects of being shocked with Veronica’s taser. They open their respective doors and climb in. He goes to start the car. Charlie’s hand on his shoulder stops him. “You became someone else in there.”

Logan shrugs. “Yeah. They don’t want me. They don’t want the fucked up guy who is me. They want Aaron Echolls’ Son. So, that’s what I can give them.”

Charlie stares. “How?”

“How what?”

“How did you do that?”

Logan smirks. “It’s not that hard. You find the parts of yourself that you would show to someone you’ve never met before, someone you want - to think well of you, to sleep with, whatever. And you just amplify that, kind of. You take the best of yourself, the golden parts, and you don’t let anything they say bring out anything you don’t want them to see.” It’s the only bit of PR his parents ever truly taught him. And, like all the good lessons he learned from them, it’s one he got from example rather than explanation.

Charlie coughs. “Well, it was amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“But you don’t use it a lot, right?”

Logan just wants to go home. “No.” He knows the unasked question. “I usually want them to go fuck themselves, and damn the consequences. But tonight was all about the consequences. So I played nice.”

Charlie breathes in and out, like he’s working up to something. “You want to maybe grab a drink?”

Now it’s his turn to be stunned. “Sure. Just let me call Veronica.” Charlie nods. He steps out of the car to do so.

She answers softly. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Saw you on tv tonight,” she flirts gently. “Never thought such a charming young man would be darkening my bedroom door.”

He knows he has his stupid grin on, and suspects Charlie can see it. “Yeah? Well, I can’t wait to do that. But, uh, it may be a little while. The real Charlie Stone just asked little old me out for a nightcap.”

“Really?” She doesn’t sound surprised.

“You set this up?” 

He hears her shifting on the other end. “Nope. But if he saw what I saw, he’s probably revisiting a couple of his opinions about you.”

“And you?” he asks.

“I already knew all about you,” she tells him. “That’s the deal, right? The good, the bad, the charming?”

He smiles back into the phone. “That’s right. I just wanted to see if you saw anything new.”

“Not a thing,” she answers. “Just a whole lot of the stuff I already you could do.”

He says his goodbyes, hangs up, and climbs back into the car.

“So,” Charlie begins. “Your girlfriend. She’s still terrifying.”

“Yeah,” Logan tells him. “And I stand by the fact that you truly have no idea.”

“You guys live together?”

Logan nods, avoiding the same ‘Aaron Lives’ people, but this time not caring about hitting them as much.

“How long were you dating before you decided to do that?”

And now he’s got an older brother. He smirks. “We were living together before we started. This time around.”

Charlie looks faintly appalled, and Logan doesn’t rush to explain the hows and whys. It isn’t until they’re sitting around a bar, Logan using the fake ID Veronica made for him under Charlie’s disapproving glare, that the subject of Veronica gets brought up again.

“She’s just this crusader, you know?” he’s explaining to Charlie. “And Norman pissed her off good by coming after me.”

“So, she’s not normally terrifying.” Charlie looks comforted at the idea.

Logan rushes to disagree. “No, she’s always pretty terrifying. I just wanted you to know why she was terrifying this time.”

Charlie looks like he’s trying to understand. “How long have you known her?”

“Since we were twelve.”

“And you liked her for that long?” Charlie leans forward. Logan laughs.

It would be easier if that were true, if he had merely been blinded to his overwhelming feelings for Veronica at twelve by the hormonal surge caused by Lilly and her boobs and her exuberance and her devil-may-care persona and her desire to sleep with him often. Some days, when he’s feeling particularly maudlin, he rewrites their story like that. But the truth is what he tells Charlie. “I always loved her. She was one of my first friends when I came to Neptune. I always wanted to take care of her, because she seemed so delicate.” Charlie snorts, like he can’t believe it. Logan continues on, unabated. “But, no. I was captivated by her best friend. It wasn’t until we weren’t friends that I really got into her.”

He doesn’t tell Charlie that he has this belief, this romantic belief Veronica would laugh him out of Neptune - out of California - for holding, that even if Lilly had lived he would have eventually found his way to her. He listens to Charlie talk about Annie, how when he saw her, he knew, and he imagines that there’s a world out there where that happened between he and Veronica as well. He grins when Charlie breaks out pictures of a little girl, and he allows his smile to only dim slightly when the pictures of a baby boy are added.

“You should come and visit,” Charlie tells him, “you and Veronica both. They’d love that.”

“Yeah. We could definitely do that.” He glances at his watch. “We should be getting you home. I need to get to bed.”

Charlie smiles at him, a genuinely friendly smile. “You know, I’m glad Veronica is so frightening. I would never have given you the time of day otherwise.”

Logan nods. “That’s why I keep her around. To make sure I have these moments with long lost family members.”

He drops Charlie off, heads home. Scoops Veronica up from the guest room with the oversized chair, and snuggles close to her in the bed. Breathes in her scent. Even with Larry, even with the performance he gave on national television, this still counts as one of those actual good days. He has more of those now than he knows what to do with. He keeps the feeling of another shoe preparing to drop at bay.


	28. Chapter 28

Logan comes home to Weevil in his house. Doesn’t say anything beyond, “So, Veronica’s here?”

“Your bitch of a girlfriend broke into my place, accusing me of robbing her. I’m just returning the favor.” Weevil looks pissed, and a little hurt. 

He allows himself a silent and completely internal sigh. Sounds like Veronica. To Weevil, he just says, “She must really like you.”

Weevil shifts from looking pissed and hurt to merely put out and confused. “What?”

“Look, Weevil, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he begins sarcastically, “but Veronica isn’t exactly the touchy feely, lovey dovey type. So, instead of flowers, some of her loved ones get accused of crime.” He pops open a soda, and hands another to Weevil.

“So, you’re saying I should be honored?” Weevil is working his way back around to pissed off, and Logan can’t blame him. 

He pulls a face. “I wouldn’t say honored. As someone who has this happen frequently, I don’t see myself as ‘honored’. I would say... Take it with a grain of salt. It’s not being accused of dastardly deeds so much as being made aware you’re a part of her life. An important part, that she’s worried about.”

“What you’re saying to me is - ‘she’s treating you like an ex-con, but don’t take it personal’?”

Logan sighs. He really doesn’t have the energy for this type of circular conversation right now. Especially with Weevil, of all people. He gets enough of his fill with Veronica, and he has the fact that he loves her to buoy him during those. “What I’m saying is, and pay attention because I’m saying this once, Ronica worries about opening up, right? So if someone can hurt her, she’s going to assume that they’re going to - or have - if she’s got the least little bit of reason to.”

His accidental companion looks sulkily impressed. “What’d you do, read a few dozen self-help books?”

Logan scoffs. “More like a couple of therapy sessions Wallace’s mom insisted we go to if we were going to be living together full time.”

“You got Vee to go to therapy?” Weevil’s done looking sulkily impressed and has moved on to just looking impressed.

He smirks in return. “Technically, Alicia did.” He’s never telling anyone he begged Alicia to mom Veronica into going after he forced Lianne out of their lives. He’s never telling anyone that he took Cliff’s advice and had to figure out a way to get her there. Getting roped in himself was a bit of an unplanned consequence, though. “And, technically, we both went. There was a couples’ counseling session. And why? Couldn’t you see the remarkable results?”

Weevil snorts, leans back into the couch, sips his soda. Logan notes that Backup is right there next to him, but in a friendly way instead of a ‘move and I make mincemeat out of you’ way. It’s a little frustrating, to be honest, that he and Weevil get the same love from Veronica’s pitbull. “I think she’s gotten worse.”

Logan shrugs as a cover for the rage he feels coursing through him; feels and tries desperately to battle back, a rage that is there more and more often no matter how much he makes it clear to himself that he is not and will not be Aaron. It’s a specific rage, though, toward Beaver and what he did and what he was, so he thinks that’s healthier than the nonspecific rage he still experiences from time to time. “Yeah, well, her dad died, man. And he didn’t just die; he was killed by a guy we grew up with, a guy who blew up a bus full of people we knew.” He leaves out her rape and how Beaver had her fooled. Doesn’t know what Weevil does and doesn’t know. “You tell me who comes out of that unscathed.”

Weevil looks chastened, shrugs in return. “Still.”

“Yeah, I know.” He does know. Knows how the anger and the disbelief and the sickening realization that the best you have is never good enough poisons the blood. But, strangely, he thinks talking Weevil down is helping him get over it. After all, as he tells the other guy, “She is who she is, Weevil. And no matter how tough she looks, she’s still just a girl who has had too much ripped away from her in too short a period.”

“Yeah, well, hotshot, how do you deal?” Weevil’s not asking for advice, Logan knows it. He’s poking a wound he knows is there, because he’s Weevil and he knows - or at least suspects - where Logan’s tender spots are. He hates the guy viciously for it.

“Remarkably well,” he snidely returns, “when it’s not me on the other end of her poker.”

Weevil’s scowl is dark and deep. “Any idea how to get me out from her poker?”

“No. I don’t. Usually, I just let her follow the rabbit hole, making snide remarks all the way. When it’s not me at the end of it, we’re in the clear.”

“Doesn’t exactly create a pile of points in your favor, does it?” Logan frowns. Weevil continues. “I mean, you’re not guilty of a hundred crimes, she’ll still finger you for crime a hundred and one.”

“You and I both know that you haven’t been innocent of even an eighth of that amount in a row,” Logan tells him. There is an unspoken acknowledgement, at least for him, that he’s also been a little less than squeaky clean all of the times before as well.

Weevil stretches, goes to stand up. “Yeah? How so?”

“Well, you went to jail for one of them. And if you didn’t do it, you would have been calling her to you to get your ass out.” Weevil tilts his head in acknowledgement of the point, and Logan feels a bit better about how this conversation is going. “You know it doesn’t help that it was Lilly’s necklace. She’ll never exactly be what I’d call level-headed about it.”

Weevil nods. “Yeah. It just burns that she’d think I would do that to her.”

“She has a history of tracking my global position,” Logan responds. “I know.” He gets an out and out laugh at that. “But, she’s probably the best person I know, and that part of her that makes me miserable when I’m in the crosshairs is responsible for saving my ass on more than a few occasions.”

The other guy looks resigned. “Tell her that I dropped in.”

“Yeah. How did you get in, anyway?”

Weevil looks so smug, Logan wants to punch him. “Funny thing, I came over with my kit. I was really prepared, you know? Had lockpicks, the whole nine. And when I get here, I get this urge to just try the door.” Pauses. “It was open. I fed and walked Backup. Never say I’m not a contentious guest.”

Fucking Dick, he thinks as Weevil traipses back the way he came. Not locking the fucking door. Makes a mental note to call a locksmith and get a door handle that locks automatically, before remembering that they rent and he has to clear it with his landlord. There are times, a lot of times, actually, when he hates living like a normal person. There are just so many inconveniences he has to hurdle before he can eventually do what he wants to do; or in this case, because his best friend has the memory of a goldfish, needs to do.


	29. Chapter 29

Veronica is huddled on the couch when he gets home from class. Logan makes his way over to her, drops down in front of her so they’re at eye level. “Weevil dropped by earlier,” he tells her, “to make it clear he doesn’t appreciate the breaking and entering when it’s his place being broken into and entered. Which I think has a certain stink of irony.”

She sighs, pitches forward slightly and rests her forehead on his. “I need to get that necklace back.”

“I know. But that wasn’t the end of Weevil’s tale of woe,” he tells her gently. “So, I’m walking back from class, and who accuses me of looking to leave you and then gets promptly arrested? Our neighborhood ex-gang leader.” 

“What?” She almost headbuts him as she pulls away.

“Yeah.” He balances on the balls of his feet, watching her reaction. “They said they found some of the jewelry in his car. So, case closed?”

He asks because he knows it isn’t. Veronica’s face looks like storm clouds have descended from on high, and Logan fights the self-satisfied smirk that threatens to emerge. Because Veronica accusing Weevil is one thing; Weevil getting arrested is something else. “You maybe want to take a trek with me? Maybe use some of your McScrooge amount of coin to bail a guy out?”

“So, just to be clear, we don’t think Weevil is evil incarnate? Because I can get behind that as well.”

She shakes her head. “Weevil’s not dumb. If he had done the crime, why would he keep the evidence on hand?”

“Maybe he got rusty when he was on the inside,” Logan jokes. Veronica pokes him in the side.

“C’mon, you. I need to do some groveling. And it’s less fun if I don’t have ice cream bought for me to drown my embarrassment in at the end of it all.”

He bounces up, grabs her hands, and pulls her standing as well. “You’ve actually got to be willing to move if you’re telling me to come on.”

“Just for that, you’re driving,” she snarks back.

When they get to the station, they sit in the uncomfortable chairs for visitors after Veronica talks to Sacks, and wait for Lamb to be done doing whatever Lamb enjoys doing when he isn’t arresting him or Weevil or Veronica. He clears his throat. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan is, we get the intel he’s got on Weevil. Then, when I’m in the back prostrating myself before a probably pissed off friend, you ask about bail. Hopefully, they’ll either have something arranged or will have something arranged for morning. Then, we get out of here, because I’m really starting to loathe this place.”

“Aw,” he says, “But we’ve spent so much time here. I, for one, miss my biweekly lock ups.”

She snorts, and opens up a magazine to a random page. Hands him Muscle & Fitness, saying, “Here, I picked up your homework for you.”

“Nice,” he tells her. “How long have you been planning this one?”

She doesn’t look up from the random page. Logan resists the urge to see if the magazine is even right side up. “A long time. This took months to craft. It is my greatest of capers.”

He snorts, and starts reading about various muscle supplements. He doesn’t get far before Lamb appears. He and Veronica do their little verbal dance as he moves on from supplements and peruses workout equipment. Before long, Veronica is squeezing his hand and moving in the direction of the cells, leaving him with Lamb.

“And you?” Lamb looks unimpressed. “You decide to make my job easier by turning yourself in for some crime I don’t know about yet?”

“Actually,” Logan begins, standing, “I’m here to see about Mr. Navarro’s bail.” Lamb scowls. “What? You thought Veronica was just going to leave him in there?”

“Thought she said she believed he did it,” Lamb shoots back.

Logan does his best impression of someone thinking. “I’m pretty sure she said she was here to get her necklace back. But I didn’t hear her say she thought Weevil did it. In fact, if she’s back there with him, I’d get the distinct impression the opposite was true.” He shrugs. “But, I’m not a detective. Maybe you figured something else out from those bits of evidence.”

Lamb looks like he’s swallowing something spiky and Logan tries hard not to preen. “Bail’s not set. He’s a repeat offender, he’s on parole. We have the right to just hold him.”

“Yeah, you probably do. But when Ronica proves he’s not the guy, you’ll have kept someone in lock up who shouldn’t have been there. Now, I know your history. That’s not something you really care about, since we’ve got exhibit a of that right here,” Logan gestures to himself, “and exhibit b back there talking to exhibit c. But maybe you want to reconsider it this time.”

The other guy looks like he’s bit into something sour. “Your little girlfriend proves we got the wrong guy, I’ll be thrilled to walk him out of here myself.”

Logan nods, expecting this. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled beyond all measure to hear that, too.”

Lamb mutters something under his breath about respect and lack of it, and Logan refuses to give in to the retort about respect being earned that is desperate to escape. He sits back down and picks his magazine back up during his wait. He briefly wonders how badly Veronica would kill him if he floated the notion of building a home gym, and how badly she would kill him if he actually started to subscribe to her gag gift. Weighs that against the genuine joy either or both would bring him. He’s still doing the pros and cons of it all when she walks toward him.

“We get bail?”

He shakes his head. “Lamb is enjoying his position of authority by making it clear Weevil isn’t getting out until you get him the real culprit. But you missed our wonderful tete-a-tete.”

“Sorry. I had to go apologize for leaping to conclusions.”

“Yeah?” he asks, walking with her out of the station. “How’d that go?”

“About as well as can be expected. He said it’s a frame job, I agreed, he looked a little shocked, I asked about the pizza delivery, he blustered, I told him I was going to prove he didn’t do it, and he made it clear he deserved some kind of recompense for my lack of faith in the beginning.”

“What’d you offer him?”

She sighs. “I told him I was very, very sorry and that I have obvious trust issues. He said that was good enough until he gets out. He also said he expected this to not count toward our favors count, which, I guess is the least I can do.”

Logan stops, feeling a little lost. “Your what?”

“Weevil and I do each other favors. We keep track, so we know who owes who.”

“What’s the tally right now?” He thinks he knows the answer.

She stops. “You know, I don’t know.”

Logan smirks at her, tries to keep the thoughts he’s having about her intelligence off his face. “Yeah, saw that coming.”

Veronica frowns her confused frown. “What?”

“Let me tell you something, little and blonde: you and Weevil are friend-friends now. Not favor-owing friends.” He quickly changes the conversation’s trajectory, before she can fight him on it. “So, what’s the plan, Stan?”

She looks mildly disgruntled, but answers, “I track down the pizza order tomorrow, and we go from there.” 

“I thought you said you believed him.”

Veronica stops at their car. “I do. If he didn’t order the pizza, finding out who did can only help.”

“Alright,” he says. “Just make sure you let me know what I can do to help you.”

“I will,” she assures him. “Ice cream?”

“As my lady wishes.” He bows best he can in the car, and drives them to Amy’s. After they get their cones and sit on a bench, she leans into him.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispers. He takes a lick of her butter pecan ice cream, offers the mint chocolate chip in return.

“Me too.” He uses his free hand to smooth down her hair. “Me too.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, show dialogue is courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

Logan finds himself being collected from his lecture hall by a bossy Veronica and hustled off to the student film festival to have a date and work a case. He wants to tell her that normal couples have dates that are an end to themselves, and not as an ulterior motive for anything other than sex and how best to acquire it; but he doesn’t, because they’re not normal and she would most likely stare at him like he had more heads than any mythical creature if he even thought about suggesting that her work take the backburner. 

Veronica is filling him in on the case to date, which he actually appreciates, given how often he’s been left completely in the dark until after the fact. Hearing about her one man fan club is a good time, and learning the intel she got from Weevil makes him glad that whatever she said to him at least established them on speaking terms, if nothing else. She ends with, “Find us seats. I'm gonna get us some popcorn and grill me some film geeks.”

He doesn’t. He can’t, because the movie is exactly what she described to him after he’d arrived late to Mercer's after the robbery. “Uh, Veronica?” He feels far away from everything, and wonders if this is how Veronica feels every time she finds a piece to a puzzle, like she’s floating. It would explain her constant need for the next clue, for the next case. He barely hears her responding “Yeah?” before continuing. “You know that whole life imitates art thing?”

She’s back at his side, staring at the same scene he is. “Those are definitely our film geeks.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It looks like Weevil may be in the clear sooner than you thought.”

She can’t find them right away, so they end up sitting through an experimental film that is just a crayon melting for a while. Veronica has her confused head tilt going, and he wants to kiss the crinkles that are prominent between the bridge of her nose and her eyebrows. Doesn’t, because they’re in public. But he wants to, because it feels like they’re the only two in the audience who don’t get the message of the movie and he likes that about them.

When they finally track down the geniuses who had guys in president masks robbing places, he’s hungry enough for a third bag of popcorn. He’s content to just sit back, and let Veronica do her thing. At least, until one of the guys decides to talk to him directly, ignoring the blonde and intrepid investigator in front of him. Which would have been enough for Logan to redirect his attention, but he has to say, “You're Logan Echolls, right? I heard you were going here. Did you ever think of investing in-”

“No,” he replies shortly, and this one encounter is everything he hates about the world and about film festivals in general. It’s the way they say his name - Logan Echolls - like he’s some species hitherto undiscovered. “And here”, Logan can hear the narration, “is the mythical Logan Echolls. Echollses are the rarest of creatures, so rare, there is only one remaining. And he holds all the purse strings. This lucky movie maker has been presented the opportunity of a lifetime.” He despises it. He hates the grovelling, the looks, the whispers. And he really hates the truly terrible pieces of crap people think he should be thrilled to throw money at. He much prefers the way Veronica says his name, like it is unique to him and like the only thing she’s judging or appreciating is his deeds or misdeeds alone. Veronica steps between them, partially blocking him from view. He wishes he could believe she’s doing it for him, but it’s probably a 30-70 him-the case split.

“Hey, buddy, right here,” she snarks, and Logan can’t resist the urge to point to her in order to really emphasize her presence. The guy seems to realize that Logan’s happiness is dependent upon hers. He doesn’t realize that won’t help his pitch any. “You can schmooze later.”

Logan wants to shake his head, but at the moment, he’s a prop in her little game with these guys. He allows it, because it’s what she does. “The guns and the masks were stolen. Our whole equipment truck disappeared a week ago.”

Veronica asks the almost required follow up of “Did you report it?”

The guy manages to keep his attention on Veronica for the first sentence, something Logan is only a little grateful for. “Yeah, the campus police actually tracked it down. Can you believe it?” Focuses his attention on Logan, looking to create some solidarity. He knows the type all too well. “Rent-a-cops.” He concentrates on the fact that he loves Veronica and he’s enjoying the popcorn when he gives the guy his fakest smile. He seems to get the message, because he turns back to Veronica. “We got all our equipment back. Only thing missing were the guns and the masks.”

Veronica’s stance shifts, and he knows she’s puzzling it out. Unfortunately, this takes her attention off of film guy. And film guy promptly turns his attention back to Logan. “So, you’re not interested in investing in movies right now. How about I give you my info and you can call me if you ever decide you’re ready to?”

Logan shakes his bag of popcorn. There are only unpopped kernels at the bottom. He stands up. “No.” Grabs Veronica’s elbow and they walk away.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes. “I forgot you were an Echolls of the Hollywood Echollses for a bit there.”

“That,” he tells her, “is the sweetest thing you could ever say to me.”

She grins at him. Pulls him in for a kiss with a “C’mere, you.”

When he pulls away, he asks, “So, film geeks did it?”

“No,” she draws out thoughtfully. “If they put in the report, I’m thinking it’s the rent-a-cops who did.”

He stares at her. “What?”

“I see it playing one of two ways - either the report came in, and they figured they could rob the illegal casino set up they tried and failed to shut down before once they saw the masks and guns; or, they stole the equipment themselves after coming up with the plan.”

“And Weevil?” He’s trying to work it out, he is, but he just can’t make the connection.

She takes his hand, swings it like she’s carefree. “They would know he’s an ex-con, because they would have seen his criminal record. He worked outside their office a lot, and he’s new. If they pulled a job, he’d be the logical person to suspect.” She pauses, and stops swinging. Clenches her jaw. “Like I did.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t have anything else to say to that.

She shakes her head. “And now, I find the bad guys, and I feel like the worst person for thinking he’d steal from me.”

He stops and swings her around. “How are you going to find the bad guys? You’re not going to go there by yourself.”

She pulls a face and he feels himself getting geared up for a fight. “No. I think I’m actually going to have to work with Lamb on this one.”

“What?”

“You said it yourself: Weevil’s in there until I prove someone else did the crime. All I have are musings that fit the circumstantial evidence, and that’s not going to be enough for him when he has a perfectly good fall guy in the cell already. So, I need proof proof. I need Lamb.”

“It’s a mistake,” he tells her. “Trusting Lamb is going to get him glory and you nothing.”

“I don’t need anything except my necklace,” she argues. “And for Weevil to get out. It’ll be fine.”

He harrumphs, but he doesn’t think it makes any difference.

He watches Veronica take Backup with her the next day, after she’d worked out the details with Lamb. Mercer comes over, and he and Dick and Logan play video games for the afternoon, as he waits on Veronica. She calls him, and he immediately releases the controller to the groans of the other two.

“Hey, vanilla bean. What’s going on?”

Her voice crackles over the phone. “Got my necklace back. Ripped it off a little girl.”

He can’t stop the wide grin that expands over his face. “Aw, next thing you know you’re going to be stealing candy from babies.” Mercer looks lost, but Dick just shrugs. He guesses someone gets used to hearing things like this after a time.

He can hear the laughter in her voice when she replies. “Nah. I’ll be reacquiring candy that the babies have taken without its owners’ knowledge.”

“So, you got the bad guy?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “I did. And I need a favor. Can you pick up Weevil from the station? He probably doesn’t have another way to get to his car.”

He looks around at the guys glaring at him. “Sure. What are you going to be doing?”

“Not going near the station. Lamb is revelling in the free positive publicity he got from working with me on this.”

“Told you he was a weasel.”

She sighs. “I know. But it got Weevil out, and I got the last thing Lilly gave to me back. So I’m going to put it in my ‘win’ column.”

“Alright, I’m off to lock up,” he tells her. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

Mercer shakes his head. “You are so pussy whipped, it’s not funny anymore.”

“What can I say? I have been tamed by love.” He stretches. “I gotta go bust a con out of the precinct.”

Dick nods, but Mercer’s confusion returns. “What?”

Dick’s the one who cuts in. “Ronnie’s got a friend, he’s done hard time.” Turns to Logan. “You really getting him out?”

“Yeah.” 

“Dude,” Dick draws out disapprovingly.

Logan smiles. “It’s fine, Dick. Weevil may even be grateful.” He doubts it, but it could happen. “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.” This is mostly to Dick, having not yet been able to convince their landlord that a self-locking lock is a great idea.

Weevil is not grateful when he pulls into the station. “Thought Vee would be picking my ass up,” he grumbles.

Logan shrugs. “She would, but I think she’s dealt with Lamb enough today. She handed him glory on a silver platter to get you out of there.”

“She did it to get her necklace back,” Weevil retorts. “Don’t talk to me like I don’t know.”

“You’re both fucking idiots,” Logan mutters, and ends up on the wrong end of Weevil’s glare. “She knew who did it. She didn’t have to involve the police at all. I mean, she has this belief about getting the right guy for the crime instead of any old guy for the crime. But, she could have taped them herself and then delivered it to him with all the superiority she could muster. She played nice for you.”

“That so?”

“Yeah,” Logan tells him. “That’s so. And don’t think I’m telling you this because I like you. I’m telling you this because she likes you, and it would suck for her if her giant amalgamation of issues stopped you from seeing that.”

Weevil smirks. “So, she got you running all around for her?” In that one question, Logan sees all the innuendo about his faithfulness Weevil could throw at him circling around.

“Yeah,” Logan snipes. “Because I love her. I’m not looking for another girl on the side. There’s no one else.”

Weevil snorts, and turns toward the window. “Whatever you say.”

“God, to think I was glad she was getting you out,” he grumbles. “Now I’m wishing I’d never told her you were in.”

Weevil shrugs. “Why did you?”

“You know how upset she got when you got out and you didn’t call her? When she wasn’t able to immediately track you down? I know her, cholo. She didn’t just do a preliminary check. You had to actually actively work on keeping her out of your business.”

Weevil blinks. “So?”

“So,” Logan emphasizes, “you mean something to her. I’m not going to let her sudden increase in lunacy take someone else out of her life, if I can help it.”

“What are you,” Weevil growls, “her protector?”

Logan can feel himself getting worked up, knows he’s bouncing a bit in the seat and probably looking at least 3/5ths deranged. “Yeah, I am. I’ve been doing it since Beaver blew up her dad and took a swan dive off my roof. I know you fancy yourself the biggest and baddest bodyguard, but you weren’t there. I was.”

Weevil falls silent, and Logan continues to drive. It’s a few minutes later when he whispers, like a confession, “I wish I had been.”

Logan feels something like empathy cooling all his jets. “It wasn’t your fault you weren’t.”

“Kind of is, right? If I hadn’t done what I did, I would have never ended up in jail in the first place.”

Logan nods. There’s nothing really to say to that. Weevil coughs. “Where we going anyway?”

“I thought I’d drop you off by your car,” he responds drily. “Unless there’s somewhere else you want to go.”

Weevil looks uncomfortable. “When’s Vee going to be getting home?”

“I don’t know. Probably sooner rather than later. Why?”

“I think it would be the right thing to thank her in person.”

Logan grins.


	31. Chapter 31

Veronica is up early, doing her detective thing. Logan takes the opportunity to lounge around and watch her. Initially, he’d planned on making one of the four bedrooms a sort of office for her, because she is someone who is always working on something. But before he had the chance to talk to her about it, she’d set up shop along the wall opposite their bed. He’s fascinated, disturbed by, the corkboard she’s hung there. It has pictures of them, of Lilly, of the Fab Four days. And then pictures she’s deemed significant or noteworthy. Notes, faces from cases present and past, all staring out at him and daring him to try - just try - and protect her.

So, he watches her, this morning, as she works on whatever problem is rattling around her head. She seems to feel his eyes on her, turns to him, and smiles. “Hey, you.”

He grins at her. “Hey. What do you say we put away the homework and spend a lazy day lounging around in bed?”

She sighs, hand going up to her newly returned necklace. “That sounds amazing. But, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come with me to San Diego?”

He props himself up, is mildly curious. “Alright, let me ask. What’s in San Diego? Are we going for the sights? The food?”

“A case?” He sighs, and she winces. “I’m sorry. I just - I tracked down a guy and I need to see him.” She crosses the room, and stands in front of him. “I’d really like it if you came with me though.”

“Let me guess,” he grumps. “One part for my wittiness and general appeal, two parts for my ability to play enforcer?”

“More like three parts your wittiness and general appeal, one tiny part your ability to be manly and strong.” She gives him the puppy dog eyes. He sighs again.

“One day soon,” he tells her, “we’re going to have a real date-type situation. I refuse to become a work widower. Or worse, a hussy you use for the sex you’re not getting from your marriage to your cases.”

Her lips quirk up, and even though he’s nine-tenths serious about it all, about how much he feels abandoned at times for a work that won’t ever fade away - because there are always others to help, always other wrongs to right, always a darkness to shine into, especially in Neptune - it’s still the response he was shooting for. 

“You’ll never be my hussy,” she promises, kissing him softly. “At the very least, you’ll be the Katharine Hepburn to my Spencer Tracy.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” It’s not, not really, because he doesn’t know what’s teasing and what’s fact anymore. He sometimes wishes they could both just stop and say what they mean, instead of jovially chattering at each other while making it impossible to get closer.

So, he gets up, puts on some clothes as she bakes a batch of snickerdoodle cookies for Wallace. “He’s been having a tough time,” she explains as they pull up at Hearst first. Logan doesn’t ask about the hows and whys. He’s surprised there’s anyone out there in the world who’s not.

Wallace isn’t there; but the guy Piz is, and he both blushes when he sees Veronica and grimaces when he sees Logan. Logan smiles at that.

“These are for Wallace,” Veronica tells the guy. “Just for Wallace. If I find out you snuck a snickerdoodle without his say so -”

The guy grins and ducks his head down, classic crush symptoms Logan left behind somewhere around the second grade, when he began the pigtail pulling version of it after Cynthia Cramer flirted her way into his house and then ignored him for Aaron for two hours before her mom came to pick her up. The blush and head duck was too easily taken advantage of, he found.

“I wouldn’t,” Piz swears. “Wallace’s cookies are safe with me.”

“Good,” she grins at the guy, and it’s Logan’s turn to grimace. Backup gives the tiniest of barks, and Piz jumps a couple of inches. Logan’s affection for the pitbull skyrockets. “Well, we have to go. Just wanted to drop those off.”

“Okay, well, great seeing you.” Piz looks a bit mortified those words escaped his mouth, especially since Veronica looks little more than bemused.

“Right. Good threatening you,” she offers back, and after he closes the door she shakes her head at Logan. “That guy -”

“Has a crush,” Logan finishes. “I’m telling you.”

She shrugs. “I think he’s just a bit dorky. He’s from Oregon. He’s new to the ways of Neptune.”

Logan glances at her, goes to argue about it, and stops. Winds Backup’s leash around his forearm and grabs a hold of hers. She stares at him. “I’m going to say this, because I don’t think I do enough: you are gorgeous. You’re the type of girl guys get crushes on. I’m telling you, it’s true.”

“Oh, really?” She asks. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

He steps a little closer. “Well, it could be the fact that I have a huge one on you.”

She blushes, and the softest of smiles comes out. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He slips closer, kisses her nose. “Let’s go track down the bad guy.”

Her grin makes him give her one in return. “Thanks. For getting it.”

He’s not sure if he does get it, if he understands what drives her and what pushes her, but he’s willing to work on it for her.

On the drive down, they hold hands like the giggly teenagers he never really was, that she was for too short a time. It feels good to get some of that back, even for just a car ride. She lets the ride be about something other than the case, and he’s grateful for that. So grateful for it. 

“You think this could ever be our lives?” he asks as they get out of the parked car.

She glances at him as she grabs Backup’s leash. “What?”

“You, me. Just us and nothing else?”

“Logan,” her voice sounds strained, “there’d always be something else too. It wouldn’t be good, if we let each other become our whole world.”

He wants to ask her why, but he’s pretty sure he knows it. She’s afraid of losing him, and he can’t blame her. Plus, he knows she’s right - it wouldn’t be healthy if they were the only two people. He hates that. He hates that they both have this want to be healthy, because just having her sounds incredible. He changes the subject. “What makes you think this is the guy?”

She looks relieved that they’re not continuing this, on a public street. “The fifth victim, Claire, was caught in an ATM photo the night she was raped, clearly already roofied, but still with her hair. She was with an Asian guy.”

They turn toward the house she gestures at, and he hears echoes of accusations of racism wafting up in Connor Larkin’s voice. “So we're knocking on the doors of every Asian guy in San Diego?”

“This guy was wearing a Camp Waterloo shirt. I got a list of everyone who went to the camp in the past five years. There's only one Asian male in Southern California. This is his house,” Veronica tells him. He can’t help it, he’s impressed. The times he gets jealous of her super sleuthing, he should remember how good she is at it, he resolves. It’s a promise to himself he’s probably going to break pretty quickly, but it’s a promise he wants to keep all the same. She glances back at him. “Look tough.”

He stops slouching. “Always.”

The door opens, but it isn’t an Asian. Veronica takes lead, asking if their guy is there. He stands there and listens as they talk about Wang, and is probably just as shocked as Veronica is when the guy says, “Yeah, she’s Wang’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Veronica stops. “Um, thanks.”

“Yeah,” the guy tells her. “No problem.” 

“Claire lied,” Logan finds himself saying. “She wasn’t raped.”

Veronica looks furious. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Who?” 

“The Lilith House. They’re idiots. They faked Claire’s rape, and they’re going to cast doubt on every other victim.” She sighs. “They made it into a witch hunt, and they centered it on frats.”

“What are you going to do?” 

She stops, stares at him. “We’re going to have a date day. We’re going to have fun, and I’m not going to think about this again until tomorrow. And then, I’m going to gather all my information, and give Nish the chance to run it. And when she doesn’t, I’m taking it to the Dean.”

He throws an arm around her shoulders. “Alright. We’ve got Backup, so what do you want to do?”

She turns into him. “Let’s go to the beach. Walk it. Be flirty and publically affectionate.”

“As you wish.”

It isn’t until much later, when they’re flopped on their couch, sunburnt and wind blown, that Veronica asks in a voice he swears he last heard before Lilly died, “Don’t they care?”

He shifts so he can see her better. “Who?”

“People.” She stares out into the room. “Parker was mad that I got the frat off, you know? She wanted someone to go down for what happened to her. And Claire and Fern and those women, they want to drag the Pi Sigs through the mud no matter what. So, don’t they care about the truth? Don’t they want the right person to be hung out to dry?”

He hesitates, kisses her forehead. “They’re hurting, Ronica,” he says, thinking about what he did to her, thinking about the absolute anguish he was in and how he just wanted someone to hurt as much as he was, and how Veronica was the person he blamed because the fortunes aligned for him to blame her so well it seemed like folly to not. “They aren’t thinking about what the truth is, because they think they have it.”

She doesn’t say anything else.


	32. Chapter 32

The doorbell rings. Logan goes to answer it with the toothbrush in his mouth and sleep still in his eyes. He’s wearing a pair of sweats and no shirt, and he really thinks it’s Dick because that’s how it usually goes since the guy can’t remember his key to save his life. It’s not Dick. Logan starts thinking that maybe he should be prepared for things like the dean of his college and a very pretty woman he’s never seen before showing up unannounced on his doorstep if he’s going to live with Veronica.

“Hi,” he says stupidly, toothbrush now firmly in hand.

Dean O’Dell smiles congenially. “Hello. Am I right in thinking Veronica Mars lives here?”

Logan is a bit befuddled. “Why?”

The dean’s smile widens. “Are you the boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Logan doesn’t move back from the door. “I am.”

“I’m Dean - Cyrus - O’Dell, and this is my wife, Mindy.” Logan nods at them both. “May we come in?”

Logan pops the toothbrush back into his mouth and scratches his head, leans against the door jamb. “That depends. Why do you want Ronica?”

The dean looks a bit put out, but Logan doesn’t really care. “I think that’s a matter between us and her, don’t you?”

“That depends,” Logan muses, “on whether or not you want to wait for her in your car or in my living room.” Grins sunnily at them. “So. What do you want with my girlfriend?”

The dean sighs. His wife steps forward. “Please, we’d really rather just talk to her about it.”

“Yeah? Then you can call her in to your office, Dean O’Dell. I know you have her number. I remember, from that time you threatened to expel her for not revealing her sources on an article.”

“Ah,” Dean O’Dell says, as if this is a revelation, turning to his wife.

He stands there as they have some kind of nonverbal sparring. He’s not sure who lost, because they both look at him with the same doleful expression. It’s Mrs. O’Dell who steps up to the plate. “Our son is dying. His last wish is to meet his real - biological - father.” Logan stares. “We need someone who is able to track him down. We tried going to a Mr. Van Lowe? But, frankly, I was unimpressed. My husband has had a couple of dealings with your girlfriend, and he thought she may be able to help.”

“Oh,” he finds himself saying. “Why don’t you both come in?”

He grabs a shirt off a kitchen chair and directs them to the living room. He finds himself offering tea, and then frantically trying to figure out if they have any before remembering, yes, they do, because Mac likes tea and she keeps a box or three dozen at their place. From there, they sit, waiting for Veronica.

“This is a beautiful home,” Mrs. O’Dell compliments him.

He nods. “Thanks. We’re renting.”

Dean O’Dell clears his throat. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

“About five months,” he answers. The dean chokes a bit on his tea, and Logan hides his grin. He can’t help it. Telling people that is always fun.

“You two are very serious, very quickly,” Mrs. O’Dell covers. “You must have felt like you found the one.”

Logan lets his gaze go to a picture Veronica has framed in the living room, perched on an end table. It’s of the two of them, when they’re around 14, making silly faces at each other. He doesn’t remember the day. He doesn’t remember who took the shot. But it’s there, an indelible reminder that she’s a constant. 

“It isn’t that quickly,” he relents. “We’ve known each other since we were twelve. She’s one of my best friends. And she needed a place to live and so did I, so we figured we might as well live together.” It’s the sanitized version of their story, but it is their story, and he’s glad he can tell it. Smiles at Mindy. “We already knew all of each other’s bad habits.”

She chuckles. “That does make it easier.”

He leans back as they fall silent, and hopes to god Veronica comes home soon. Less than five minutes later, he hears her open and close the door. “Hey, Logan! Come look out the front window and check out the Porsche. It's four inches into the fire zone. Let's call the city and get it clamped, you know, just for funsies. You get the lawn chairs. I'll put some popcorn in the microwave.”

He winces, and tries to smile apologetically at the Dean as he calls out warningly, “Veronica!”

She’s not paying attention, though, as she continues on. “Seriously, you blow a hundred grand on a car, I guess you think you can just park wherever you want.” He can hear her progress as she comes closer to the living room, and he just hopes to God she doesn’t say anything else before she gets there. Of course, she does. “I wonder if the sense of entitlement came standard.” 

Stops, and closes her mouth. Stares at Logan, who gives her a little finger wave. The dean answers her. “It did. And while we're on the subject of entitlement, maybe someday you can parlay your complimentary $100,000 college education into a lucrative career of your very own. It's my wife's car, by the way. Veronica, have you met my wife?”

Veronica mouths “heads up” to him as she turns to take in Mindy O’Dell, and he grins bashfully at her. He only loves her more when her response to the dean’s query is, “No. Has your wife met the hot chick?”

Logan leans forward as Mindy answers, “I believe there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

“Ronnie,” he cuts her off before she can say something else from inside her hole, “The dean and his wife have a problem they want you to take a crack at.” She cocks her head at him.

“What?”

Dean O’Dell sighs. “Yes. I have heard some great things about you, and, of course, about your father. Mr. Navarro has been particularly effusive.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Veronica snarks, and she walks further into the room. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“We’re looking for someone, actually. My ex-husband. Our son is terribly sick,” Mindy sniffles. “He’s dying. He wants to meet his father.”

Veronica sits down next to Logan on the couch, and bites her lip before answering. “I’m sorry to hear that, I really am. But, I’m a college student. I don’t have a PI license yet, and I’ve let the software licenses lapse. I’m afraid you’d be better off if you went to a credible business.”

“They went to Van Lowe,” Logan offers, and he’s not even sure why. Veronica stiffens.

“You show up there, driving that car?” They both nod at her. “On second thought, let me see what I can do for you.” She pulls a pad and paper out of her bag and turns to him. “Do you mind?”

He stands up. “No, not at all. I’ll go surfing for a bit.” Drops a kiss to her head. “Need me to do anything before I go?”

“Yeah, call Weevil for me. Ask if he’s willing to work a case I’m getting info for.”

“Done.” He goes up to their bedroom, hearing Veronica ask, “Now, about your ex-husband...”

Dialling up Weevil is never easy. Less so when the guy answers the phone by saying, “What the hell you calling me for?”

“I’m Ronnie’s personal assistant,” he snarks back. “You remember, I do the running around for her?”

Weevil goes silent on the other end for a second, before begrudgingly saying, “Yeah? What does Mars want?”

“I think she’s looking to hire you for help with a case,” he tells the other guy. “I’ve got the dean and his wife sitting in my living room, partially thanks to you.”

“Hold up,” Weevil protests. “What’d I do?”

“You ran your mouth about how talented Veronica is,” Logan tells him. “And now the guy’s got a problem he only trusts a nineteen year old to solve for him.”

“Dean’s a good guy,” Weevil tells him gruffly. “It must be big.”

“It is,” Logan assures him. “And she wants you. So, you in or not?”

“This happening now?”

Logan shifts some of his closet, searching out his wetsuit. “Yeah. It’s kind of a time-sensitive thing.”

Weevil sounds regretful. “I can’t. I got my cousin’s wedding. I already gave Vee my keys.”

Logan stops searching for his wetsuit. “Are you serious?”

“Man, I can’t skip the wedding. My family would kill me.”

He can feel the headache developing. “Not about that. Even I can’t be mad at you for that. I meant giving her your keys. I’m assuming you mean your work keys, and I’m assuming you know she’s going to use them for nefarious purposes.”

“Well,” Weevil tells him, “yeah.” Shoots it off, like this is a common thing. He silently decries Veronica’s involvement with the criminal element.

“You know,” he says conversationally, “there was a time in her life when Ronnie respected the law.”

“Yeah?” Weevil responds. “I wonder what could have happened to make her not. No, wait, I think we both know.”

“Yeah. We do.” He hangs up, and stands there for a minute. Veronica asking for help is something new. He wants to encourage that, because it’ll mean he may make it to thirty without developing a series of ulcers and a bad, persistent, case of agita. As a bonus, he may even get to keep his hair.

He walks back down the stairs, and peers at her in Professional Mode. He clears his throat, and she gazes up at him. “Hey! Weevil on board?”

“Ah,” he starts, and her face falls, “he’s got a wedding. He seems to think you should already know about it.”

She lights up at the realization. “That’s right! I’m babysitting his -” gives a quick glance to the dean. “Plants.” She turns to Logan. “Hey, second string, want to start in a game or two?”

“Yeah. I could do that.”

Her smile is blinding. “Great.” She turns to the O’Dells. “We’re going to get started on this, and I’ll give you a call with what I find out.”

He goes to stand by her as they leave. “So, is this going to go down like an episode of McMillan and Wife? Because I need to be prepared for all contingencies.” 

“Don’t worry, Sally. I’ll rescue you from any shenanigans you stumble into.”


	33. Chapter 33

“I have something to show you,” he tells Veronica. She looks up from her computer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She motions for him to give it to her, eyes turned back to the screen.

Logan leans on the desk. “It’s not here. We’d have to take a ride.”

“Logan. I’m working a case.”

He can’t help the self-satisfied smirk. “I know. This’ll help. Trust me.”

Veronica sighs, and thrusts her hands out to him. He grabs them and pulls her up from her chair. He’s still holding them as he skips out of their house and down to his car. He’s tempted to blindfold her, but he’s worried about the almost guaranteed negative reaction. Instead, he just drives around the streets of Neptune for a while until she’s good and huffy.

“Are we ever getting there?” she demands, and he smiles. 

“We’re almost to it,” he promises, and she groans.

“We’ve been down this street three times already. Are we lost? Did you manage to get lost? In Neptune?”

“Hey,” he shoots back. “I know these streets like the back of my hand, and don’t you be insinuating otherwise. I’m just creating dramatic tension.”

“You’re creating tension alright,” she grumps, and leans her arms on the window sill. He pulls into a space.

“We’re nearly there,” he tells her. She glares at him. His grin gets bigger. He grabs the keys and takes her hand. She’s stiff and unweildy, but they make it across the street. He knows the second she figures it out, because her arm goes slack.

“Logan,” she breathes, and stops dead on the sidewalk.

He feels her melting against him. Whispers, “Let’s go up, shall we?”

She nods, and they walk up the stairs and he opens the door to the Mars Investigations office. She walks in slowly, and looks around. “It’s all here. How is it all still here?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, letting her have this moment to herself. “We never actually stopped renting this place. We needed to put stuff in storage, but a lot of what we needed to go into storage was already here. So, I kept up payments. And then you said you wanted to open it back up again, so it worked out.” He shuffles a bit into the space. “What are you thinking?”

Her eyes are shiny. “I’m thinking that this is incredible. You got me a business.”

“Technically,” Logan tells her, “I just made sure there was office space. If you felt like turning Mars Investigations into Mars Pastries or Mars Temp Agency, I would be more than happy.”

She comes over, hugs him close. “Thank you. I know - I know you’re not thrilled with the whole private eye thing, so this means a lot.”

“I like what you do. I do. I don’t like what you do when what you do becomes dangerous, but that’s just because I hate you being anything other than safe. I want to keep you for as long as I can. But you love this, and you would do this whether or not I gave you my approval. At least this way, your name’s already on the door, and I have a key.”

“You do, do you?”

“Well,” he kisses her, cheek, nose, cheek. “I do pay rent. It’s one of the perks.”

She hums. “Is making out with the amateur private eye another perk?” He sighs into the next kiss. 

“I think so, yeah.”

She pulls away from him after too short a time. “Okay, so, we have an office. We have a case. We are running a pretty illegal operation at the moment, so we need to think on our feet and really make this work.” She points to her old desk. “That is your work station. Tell me you brought our laptops.”

He nods, walks to his new desk, and puts his bag down on it. “They’re in there.”

“And you paid for electric and internet?” Veronica gives him a hopeful smile.

“I recently had both turned back on, yes.”

“We are in business, baby!” She hops and he laughs at her. “I am stoked!”

“Your wants are unusual,” Logan tells her, “but just as if not more expensive than any other girl’s.”

She kisses him again. “I’m just glad you know me well enough to rent me buildings instead of buying me jewels.” She pulls back. “Still, I wouldn’t say no to a pony.”

“Maybe for Christmas.”

He watches as she crosses the threshold into her father’s office space. He watches as the tension that had just recently dissipated creeps back up her spine. She pauses, and doesn’t go any further in. She backs back out. “On second thought,” Veronica tells him shakily, “I think I’ll just work out here for now.”

“I can go in there, if you’d like,” he offers, following her over as she makes her way to the couch.

She looks him full on, doesn’t avoid showing him how badly she’s hurting. “No. It still feels like him in there. I want to keep it like that for a little longer.” She pulls her legs up, folds into herself. “I want to keep feeling like he could walk through the door for just a bit more.”

He knows what she means. After he knew his mother was truly gone, not just Hollywood gone, he would sit in the rooms she kept for herself, smelling her perfume as it wafted around him. He kept spraying it into the air, long after everything had fallen apart, until there was no more left in the bottle. He doesn’t miss the mansion, not really. But he misses those rooms, and that smell in them. 

“You want your desk?”

“Nah,” she tells him dully. “I think I’m just going to sit here for a couple minutes. Then I’ll get to work on finding Mr. Batando.”

He gives her shoulder a squeeze, and then gives her space. 

She finds Steve Batando pretty quickly after that. A quick search gives her the multiple ex-wives, a call to Inga gets her his last known address, and then she stares at him like she’s pondering how to talk him into some escapade or another.

“What?” he asks. “If you want me to do something involving crossdressing and plying our guy with drinks, I’m telling you, you’re going to need to offer a better benefit package.”

“I’m thinking something a little more low-key,” she tells him. “And I’m not trying to get you to do it. I’m trying to figure out how I can convince you to let me do it. But first, I have to get to class. I’m pretty sure I’m getting back that paper today.” She puts her computer into her bag. “Are you going to bring me to campus, or am I going to have to hitch a ride?”

“You’re lucky you’re as cute as that button, you know that?”

“You know,” she tells him, “I do.”

After he drops her off, he calls Mercer. “The ball and chain letting you out?”

“Something like that, yeah. You want to hang?”

“I don’t know,” Mercer taunts. “Are you going to bail halfway through if your girlfriend gets a hangnail?”

“Probably,” he tells the guy. “Hangnails are brutal.”

Mercer laughs. “I’ll grab Dick. We’ll rustle up some fun.”

“It’s a plan.”


	34. Chapter 34

Veronica finds him, pouting and restless. Logan looks up from the study group Wallace pushed him to join to see her standing there, and immediately casts over the last few days to find what it is he could have possibly done. He inches away from the girl next to him. “Hi, honey.”

“Are you busy?”

He looks around. Wallace nods at him, and so he turns back to her. “I can give you a couple minutes.”

“Wallace too?” He almost laughs, because Wallace’s face immediately becomes stricken. He obviously thought Logan was in trouble, like Logan did, but now it turns out they both are. It feels good to have company.

Wallace is the first one out of the gate. “What’s going on, Vee?”

“You know that paper of mine?”

“The one you were accused of plagiarizing, yeah.” It’s turning out this isn’t about him at all, and Logan is doing an internal happy dance.

“Well, I’ve got a lead. Thanks to Wallace.” Wallace nods at her. “But it’s going to take me a little while to actually work through it. So, I was wondering if you guys could take point on the O’Dell case.”

Wallace shakes his head. “No can do, Vee. I’ve got this Sociology test this afternoon, but then I have a buttload of work for my engineering classes. I’m sorry.”

Logan watches her face fall. “I’ll do it.”

“No, Logan, I can’t ask you to do this by yourself.”

“You were going to,” he tells her stubbornly. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, you would let Weevil do it.”

It looks like he’s getting to her. “You’re just -”

“Not good enough?” He can feel the clamminess of not being enough creeping in.

“Tempestuous,” she informs him.

He shifts over closer to her, aligns his body with hers. “Let me try. If I think I can’t hack it, I’ll call you immediately. What’s the plan?”

“Imitating an ex-girlfriend who wants to get her stuff back?” She gives him a weak smile and a shrug.

“I already told you,” he tells her. “No crossdressing without a higher incentive. What can I do?”

“You want to be an ex-boyfriend who just wants to get his stuff back?”

He can’t help it. He’s tickled by her. “No, not really. What would your dad have done?”

She huffs, and blocks her eyes from the sun. “He would have probably impersonated some kind of worker - sanitation, or gas reader, something. He had cards all printed up with different employers and different names on them.”

“So, I go to the office,” Logan decides, “and find these cards. Easy as pie.”

“Call me. Before you do this, and then after. Be prepared to speed dial me at any time if something goes wrong. If nothing fits, then just don’t do anything and we’ll find another way to get him.”

“You’re worried about me.” 

Her original pout comes back, with force. “Yeah.”

He feels warmth tingling from the tips of his fingers and radiating through him. “I’ll be careful, and I’ll call. I promise.”

She frowns at him. “Take your Sociology test first.”

“Yeah, yeah. Meet me after for some lunch before I get on the juice that has you so addicted?”

She gives him a peck on the cheek, and then takes off across the quad. Logan stands there for a second, staring after her, until Wallace pulls him back to the group.

“You thinking about her and what she’s gotten you into is going to freeze your brain,” Wallace tells him. “Believe me.”

“Oh yeah? What’s she had you do for her?”

Wallace just shakes his head. “Man, I’m going to study this here material, rock that test, and then lock myself away for the rest of my natural born life.”

Logan looks bemusedly at his girlfriend’s best friend, and joins him in studying. He can’t help but think about the fact that he and Wallace are getting along pretty well. He likes it. It’s good hanging out with another guy who loves his girlfriend, even if those times are academically induced. Not having to defend her, not having to worry about the snipings that he’s whipped, is pretty freeing. The only other guy he knows he could possibly do this with is Weevil, because he is also in the group of people who jumps as high as Veronica commands; and he can’t do this with Weevil, for obvious reasons.

“We should do this more often,” he floats.

Wallace looks up from his notes in confusion. “Cram for a test together?”

“Hang out,” Logan returns.

“Yeah, I’d like that. As soon as I stop my grades from hemorrhaging.”

Logan nods again, and glances at his watch. “It’s go time.”

Wallace groans. “I should be fine, right? I mean, I know this stuff inside and out.”

“And if you don’t,” Logan tells him, “you can just have Veronica get Mac to change the grade in the system.”

Wallace throws him a disgusted look. “Man...”

“I’m kidding,” he tells the guy. “I’m not evil incarnate.”

“I know,” Wallace tells him.

“But you just see asshole,” Logan sighs, seeing his good feelings fleeting.

“No. I see the guy who stepped up and took care of my best friend when no one else knew how to.” Wallace pauses. “That’s just a sensitive subject right now.” Logan just looks at him. Wallace smiles. “Man, you tell a girl to keep something on the down-low, and she does. I got caught cheating, so now anything that doesn’t squeak isn’t clean enough. That’s it. Nothing to do with you.”

“Oh. Nevermind. I thought -”

“Yeah, well, I thought you were ribbing on me. I guess we were both wrong.”

“Okay,” Logan says awkwardly, and messes with his hair. They stop at the door to the exam. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Wallace tells him. “See you on the other side.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show dialogue correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

Mercer catches up with him after the class as he heads for the dining hall. “There’s a group of us heading down to Tijuana this weekend. You should totally come,” he says as a greeting.

Logan frowns. “I’ll think about it. Talk to Veronica.”

“Yeah, okay, she’ll be sure to let you off the leash,” Mercer gripes, before heading off in a different direction to get food. He can feel the snarl reaching up into his face. When Mercer gets to their table, he snaps, “What’s your problem with Veronica?”

Mercer frowns. “I like your girlfriend. I do. She’s a little intense, but I can see where you’d find that sexy rather than alarming.”

Logan sighs, and peers down at his plate. “But?”

“Dude,” Mercer tells him. “You’re nineteen years old going on ninety. You don’t hang. It’s like the two of you are attached at the hip. You’re playing house, and you keep Dick like he’s your kid. You’ve even got the dog. It’s sad.”

Logan shrugs. “I feel like I’m old.”

“You don’t ever want to party any more? Get wasted, totally trashed, and see where the night takes you? Flirt with beautiful women and then watch the sun rise, knowing you’ve lived life to its fullest?”

Logan stills. It calls to him, that freedom. “I do,” he tells Mercer. “But then I remember what happens the day after I’ve lived life to its fullest, and I’ve got a girl who’s looking at me like I’ve skinned her hamster.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Mercer tells him. “We’re too young to have one girl waiting for us at the end of the night and into the next day. We should be free agents until we’re in like our thirties, man. We’re young, we’re hot, you’re loaded, we have no one aside from a petite blonde to answer to, and we should be having as much fun as we can cram into our lives.”

He thinks about that, about leaving Veronica. It feels like he’s swallowed razor blades. He thinks about what he did junior year, before her, and then senior year, after her, and how it felt more like despair than joy. He remembers the sinking nausea that overcame him when she visited his suite at the Grande the day after Alterna-prom, when he couldn’t remember what got her to come back but he could remember the woman inside. Her face floats up in front of him, and he feels his life spiralling out of control again. He thinks of Veronica, strong and sweet and almost alone. 

“I am having fun. It’s more sedate, yeah. And maybe when this falls apart with Ronica, I’ll regret the women I didn’t fuck in the meantime. But I love her. She’s my family.”

Mercer shakes his head. “You’re lucky you’re a sadistic bastard with a wicked sense of humor, you know that? Because sometimes I’m ashamed to call you my friend.” He grins at him. Logan grins back. “I hope one day I get it, whatever it is that makes you such a solid guy.”

Logan ruefully says, “Not so solid.”

“Oh yeah? Mercer leans forward. “Do tell.”

“Nothing too extreme. Just, my sociology exam. Guy didn’t want to let me hand it in because I took longer than the allowed time. So I just shoved it in with the rest of the tests when he wasn’t looking, shuffled them in front of his face, and walked out. I may or may not have given him a jaunty wave.”

Mercer cracks up. “That is classic.”

He shrugs, eats some more food. “Well, it was a proctor. Professor wasn’t even there.”

“That is so awesome.” Mercer’s grin becomes a little more mischievous, and he straightens up. “But, I do not condone it in any way and had nothing to do with your decision to do it.”

The reason for Mercer’s sudden but inevitable betrayal becomes apparent when he hears Veronica ask, “Do what?”

Mercer continues to spill his secrets to his girlfriend, telling her, “Cheating. I told him it was wrong and that he was going to burn in hell. You’re going to burn in hell, man.”

Logan smiles, happy in Mercer’s at least attempted comradery. “And I’ll see you there.”

As Mercer leaves, Veronica looks at him. “You cheated?”

He swings his arm along the back of her chair, revelling in the contact, and eats some more. “I took an extra ten seconds on a test.” Teases, “I thought you loved bad boys.”

“I do, but if that’s your idea of bad, you need to turn in your badge.” She leans into him, and steals his drink. 

“That’s the popular opinion around here,” Logan opines. Veronica quirks her eyebrow. “Mercer was giving me crap for being old and settled. It seems I never want to go out any more now that I have a lovely lady in my own home.”

She grins at him. “Speaking of, do you want to go bowling tomorrow night?”

“Sure. Unless it’s some critical analysis of bowling seminar. Then -”

“No. It’s just Wallace’s new roommate and some other guys.” He stiffens a bit at the mention of Piz. “Could be fun.”

He knows the exact second he’s lost her attention. “What?”

He follows her line of sight across the cafeteria to where Mac’s roommate, the blonde who’s name he can’t remember, is sitting by herself. “It’s just, Mac’s had this project all week and Parker’s all alone. I think we should invite her along.”

“How very Emma of you,” he tells her, and she gives a little gasp.  
“Did you just make a Jane Austen reference? It’s official, the end of days are upon us.”

“No,” he informs her as she goes to leave. “That’s not happening until December 2012.”

She smirks at him and heads over to Parker. He sits there, watching, until she comes back.

“Alright, she’s in!”

“Great,” Logan says. “How are we playing this Batando deal?”

She’s immediately onto the case. “We should get inside the apartment, make sure it’s really his. And then, you’re going to need to do some digging, find out the best way to draw him out is.”

Logan must look startled, because she frowns. “If you’re not comfortable doing this...”

“No, I am. It’s a dying kid, right? I’m not going to say no. I just - what kind of dad doesn’t want to come be his kid’s dream come true?”

Veronica rests her head on his shoulder. “Half the dads in Neptune?”

He chuckles drily. “Yeah, that must sound pretty moronic, coming from me.”

She sighs softly. “Not moronic. Sweet.” She lifts her head up, affection shining through every movement. “I like that about you. Even more than your bad boyness.”

That's good, he thinks, because his bad boy points have taken a bit of a hit in recent months. He rests his head on hers and pulls her in tight. He hates himself for doing it, but he hopes for the Hollywood ending, for the two of them. He wants it so bad it hurts to breathe, sometimes. It just gets worse when she gets sweet herself.


	36. Chapter 36

As it happens, getting into a low rent building’s apartment is pathetically easy. He chooses the card with the name “Johnny B. Goode”, because it tickles him, and then gets into character as the pet psychic. Mr. Mars had to have his cool moments if he was willing to impersonate one of those, and Logan gives himself a second to mourn the fact that he never really got to know that guy, as opposed to the disapproving father with guns guy. When he runs into the building’s manager, it doesn’t take too much for him to convince the man Steve Batando has a sick betta fish he needs to speak to. 

When the guy asks why Steve isn’t there to let him in, Logan huffs. “The animals, they don’t always want to be truthful when their owners are around. They’re much like children. They scamper and hide, because they get embarrassed, see? Steve told me when he would be out, so I could do my work with Shirley in peace.”

He mutters something about Hollywood quackery, and unlocks the door. Logan grins. Veronica has given him a 15 minute window before she wants to hear from him again, so he decides to work fast. Not that it would take too long, he thinks disdainfully, looking around the grimy and cramped apartment. What he finds is that Steve doesn’t have pets of any kind, but is working on establishing a voiceover career. He scowls. It’s just like a deadbeat to work in showbusiness.

He also finds a lot of cards for bars in the area, and a lot of coasters with random women’s names and numbers on them. He wouldn’t be shocked if two thirds of them are fakes. He makes notes along the way, seeking out bills and other items Ronnie told him were a priority. He doesn’t find much. At fourteen minutes past, he’s done taking pictures of every bit of the apartment, and has at least three shots of him sticking his tongue out at the camera. He wraps it up, and leaves.

When he calls Veronica from the car, she answers on the first ring. “How’d it go?”

“Smooth,” he tells her. “I took pictures of absolutely everything, like you demanded. The guy’s doing voiceover work. He also likes bars and seemingly loose women. And he could use a maid, because there were things in there that were alive that shouldn’t have been.”

Veronica laughs. “All in the day’s work for the hardnosed PI.”

“Yeah,” he shoots back. “Speaking of, what’s my commission? Weevil and Mac usually get ten, but they’re generally more informants or info gatherers than worker bees out in the field; so I think mine should be around 15.”

He can hear the snort through the phone. “Your commission is my love and devotion.”

“I guess I can get behind that,” he tells her, sighing theatrically. “I know from experience it doesn’t come cheap.”

“You wouldn’t want it if it did,” she retorts.

He smiles fondly into the phone. “So, what’re you doing?”

“I am getting ready for bowling tonight, and making a note to call Cliff when I get off the phone with you.”

“What’s Cliff going to do?”

He can practically hear her shrug. “He’s going to help me draw out our Mr. Steve. I figure, the voiceover work is probably the best way to get him. Once we set that up, Cliff, he of dulcet tones, can be a former voiceover actor running his own agency through the ties he made during his successful career.”

“Oh, really? What will you be?”

“His secretary, of course. You’re going to be an aspiring actor who’s marble mouth leads to very few call backs.”

“I don’t have a marble mouth,” Logan grumbles. “I just don’t always feel the need to speak clearly.”

“Or ever,” she snarks.

He glares at the phone. “I don’t need to take this kind of abuse.”

“Sure you don’t,” she agrees. “But you like it.”

“Go call Cliff,” he says. “And maybe plan on being nice to me when I get home. I risked life and limb today.”

She laughs at him again, and hangs up.

When he gets there, she kisses him slowly. “My hero.”

“Yeah?” He can feel the grin expanding.

“Yup.” She grins mischievously. “So, want to be a bigger hero in my eyes?”

“Is this going to mean I have to disarm a bomb? Because I skipped that day of spy school.”

Veronica puts on her best faux-innocent look, and he laughs. “No. But, you did live at the Grande for quite a long while.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t suppose you have any inside connections?” She bats her eyelashes at him. Logan wants to tell her not to bother. She’s already got him tied around her finger so tightly it’ll take NASA decades to figure out how to get it undone. Or Maniac Magee at least a month.

“What kind of inside connections?”

Veronica leans into him. “Like someone on the staff you’re pals with who might sneak you info they maybe aren’t supposed to?”

“Hmm...” He rests his head on hers. “I think I might. But,” he pulls away from her and grabs her by the shoulders, “you should know that she’s a fairly attractive young woman, and that I never slept with her.”

“Why should I know these things?”

“Because,” Logan responds quickly, “I want you to be prepared, and to be confident.”

“You flirt with her?”

“Shamelessly.”

Her lips purse. “Of course.”

He sighs. “It’s nothing, Veronica. It’s not like you don’t flirt.”

“I don’t make an Olympic sport out of it.” Her eyes go a little cold. 

“Hey, you’re the one asking me for help here,” Logan reminds her. “And I’m being all helpful and honest. So, do you want to go pay Tina a visit, or are you going to be moody and temperamental because I flirted with a girl while we weren’t together?”

Veronica crosses her arms and works her jaw a little bit, and looks very much like she wants to not follow up with Tina out of pure spite. “Let’s go visit your friend.”

“Alright then. What’s this about anyway?”

She glares out into the world, as if its very continued existence is an insult. “My paper was submitted to a free site, retrodated to last year, from an e-mail set up three days ago from an IP at the Grande. Someone is screwing with me, and I’m going to find out who. And then they’ll learn what it feels like to get screwed.”

Logan nods. “Let me know if you need any help doing the screwing.”

“Unless it’s a pretty girl who needs her heart broken, I’m not sure what you can do,” she snaps at him. He stiffens. He watches as she softens up again. “But thanks. I just - I hate this.”

“What? That someone decided to fuck with you? I thought you’d be used to that by now.”

“Not that,” she grumbles. “Not that that isn’t a headache in and of itself. Just, I hate this.” She gestures between the two of them and he feels his stomach drop. “Feeling like this.”

“Like what?” he grudgingly returns.

She works her jaw again, and Logan knows her well enough to know she’s steeling herself up for something. “Jealous. I believe you, that you just flirted. But you didn’t just flirt with every girl. And even the ones you do ‘just flirt’ with, there’s always going to be this -” she gives her hands a flutter. “Anyway. I hate it.”

He pulls her close, kisses the side of her head, wraps her up in him. As he does it, he thinks that maybe their tendency to snark at each other leaves more than just him battling huge wells of insecurity. She tenses for a second before she responds in kind. “You know there’s no one else. I told you that. I only want you.” He bends his knees, drops down to her eye level, keeps his arms around her. “I love you. Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Now, what do you say we find IP guy -”

“Rory Finch.”

“Rory Finch,” he agrees, “clear your name, and bowl our hearts out.”

She sniffles, and then gives him her most bashful smile. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He thought that returning to the Grande after all this time would be more difficult. Like, it’s very facade would make his heart race like it did when he got the text from Veronica, when he saw Cassidy with a gun, when he realized what had happened and what was happening in front of him. It isn’t that hard at all, really. He turns to watch Veronica, to see if it’s just him; but she seems unfazed as well.

He sees Tina working the desk, and anticipates Veronica stiffening next to him. He puts his arm around her waist and pulls her close. “Hey, you.” She turns her face up to meet his. He rests his nose on hers. “You’re my girl.”

She pulls away slightly, nods, but doesn’t smile. “Let’s get to work.”

Tina remembers him, which is good for Veronica’s academic future and not so good when it comes to convincing her that harmless flirtations are in fact harmless. Especially when he asks for a favor and she whispers, “Anything.” 

Just another thing to deal with later, he thinks, and asks her about finding Rory Finch. Tina comes through, and Veronica leans in to continue the questioning. “If I left my cell phone number, could you call me if they check back in?”

Tina smiles back. “Sure. Anything for a friend of Logan’s.”

Logan gives Tina a smile in return, and quickly follows that with, “Girlfriend, actually,” cutting Veronica off before she could say anything else.

Veronica glows. She even thanks Tina before taking his arm and saying, “Come on, boyfriend. Let’s bowl.”

It’s a good feeling, making Veronica confident. He wonders why he didn’t notice it earlier, how just telling people they were dating makes her happy. It’s that good feeling that gets him through bowling.

It starts when Piz is the only one there, out of the group Veronica had said were going. It continues when Piz greets Logan with a, “Hey, uh...”

He can feel the irritation rising when he replies, “Logan. Her boyfriend. We’ve met.”

Piz’s awkward, “Right” is just icing on the cake. It’s just as well, Logan muses. Can’t have Veronica being the only one jealous tonight.

Veronica still doesn’t seem to realize she has her boyfriend crashing what was supposed to be a Piz-and-Veronica thing when Parker arrives, just amping up the awkwardness. Because Piz may not have thought to arrange for a gang, but Veronica did. That should probably make him feel better about the situation, that Veronica suspects so little she accidentally created a double date scenario; but it doesn’t. Especially when, after he comes back with shoes, she tells him, “Listen, I think I’m going to stick Parker on your team.”

“What? Why?” He doesn’t tell her, but he’s really regretting this decision to go bowling now.

She shrugs at him. “I thought there would be more people, and so I invited her not realizing that this was going to look like a set up. She’s not ready for that, so -”

“So sticking her with the obviously taken one is the solution,” Logan finishes. “Why can’t I team up with Piz and you take Parker?”

“Because,” Veronica tells him, “I don’t want you taking Piz out with a bowling ball just because you think he likes me.”

Logan glares. “So, the best solution you could come up with is to put yourself on a team with the guy?”

“It’s not ideal, I know. But it’s what I’ve got to work with at the moment.”

His glare deepens into a glower. “You owe me.”

“I do.” 

“You’re going to owe me so much.”

She gives him her weepy stare, and tells him, “I’m going to owe you so, so very much, because I have to ask you - help Parker have a good time?”

“I hate that stare,” he growls. “This is why I’m paired with her and you’re not isn’t it?”

“You’re more of a people person than I am.”

“I hate people.”

“But you hide it so well!” She pauses to snuggle him. He’s not too ashamed to admit that he searches out Piz to see his reaction. He doesn’t look happy, and Logan grins in response, and snuggles her in return. “Plus, people love you. She needs this to go well.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “Just, promise me the puppy dog stare gets used only for good and never for evil.”

“I will not use it for evil on you,” she promises. He tries not to think of the people she plans to use the look on in an effort to accomplish evil. It won’t end well.


	37. Chapter 37

Being on Parker’s team is almost fun, due in large part to how badly their team is beating Piz and Veronica, and how much glee she gets out of rubbing in Piz’s continued failure as a bowler, and, in Logan’s eyes, as a man. Looking at Piz, it’s kind of apparent that second part may not be all in his head. The guy looks a little ticked. 

“So, you and Veronica, huh?” she asks as the two of them go up to get cheese fries and pretzels and soft drinks.

He sucks in his sigh. “Yeah, me and Veronica.”

“You guys are super cute together,” she gushes. “Like, you’re not out of the honeymoon phase yet.”

“Well, you know. Young love and all that jazz,” he responds, waiting for the inevitable.

“How long have you two been together?”

And there it is. He should just get the whole thing printed out on 3x5 cards, met at twelve, became friends, became enemies, became friendish, dated secretly, broke up, dated again, broke up, cleared him of murder together, dealt with dead dads, got back together. “Five months, this time around.”

“Oh,” she sucks on the straw of her drink, leaving him to balance the rest of the crap he just overpaid for. “So you weren’t dating her when... And you might not even know -”

He sighs. Great. “I’m pretty sure I know. I’m surprised you know, though.”

“Are you?” She sucks more soda through her straw, and looks as sweet and trusting as a girl could.

“She doesn’t spread it around.” He modifies his tone from scary to what he hopes is a more moderate seriousness. He hopes the underlying message remains, ‘so don’t spread it around’.

“I get it, I do. I just wanted to know -” She flushes, and glances back toward Piz and Veronica, who seem to be getting along like thieves. He grimaces. “I know this isn’t a date, but I want to, at some point, so...”

“So, date,” he tells her. “Tell them, or don’t.”

“My shaved head was on a poster-sized board labelled as ‘Victim #4’ and I was holding it,” she tells him drily. “I think they’ll know.”

He shrugs. “The good ones, they won’t bring it up until you do. The better ones won’t really care, except for how it affects you.”

“Are you one of the better ones?” she asks him, and he smirks. 

“Me? I’m the elite.”

“Oh, yeah?” Parker bumps him with her shoulder. “What makes you so elite?”

He waggles his eyebrows at her, and she giggles at him. He doesn’t say anything else. He looks across to their station, and sees Veronica’s face drawn into a pensive frown as she watches them. She looks like she barely knows Piz exists. He swiftly changes the subject. “Hey, let’s bring our spoils of my wallet back to the rest of the gang.”

“Sounds good,” she agrees. “Then we can finish crushing them beneath our really hideous shoes.”

He puts the fries in front of Veronica and hands her a cup, and she gives him a small smile. “Hey,” he calls gently. “Only you.”

Her smile gets bigger. “Right back atcha, buddy.”

They continue to, in fact, crush Veronica and Piz. Their score isn’t helped when Veronica starts just throwing gutterballs toward the end, with Piz demanding, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to see if I can get my ball to hop the lane,” she tells him, skipping back and sliding in next to Logan. “Maybe turn this into a giant game of marbles instead of what we’re doing. Because what we’re doing isn’t working.”

He grins at his girlfriend, and Piz slinks by her to continue their descent into losing. He manages to hit four pins, and sighs. “We suck.”

“That we do, friend,” Veronica slings back as he mopes back to seat. “But we are going to develop a new sport and rock at it.”

Piz perks up and Logan can feel the muscle in his jaw line tighten. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she tells him. “I’m thinking, nothing involving coordination.”

“Or skill,” Piz says. 

“Or physical skill,” Veronica agrees. “Maybe with a lot of music and mystery. We’d be great at that.”

Logan snorts. “Honey bunch, stick to soccer.”

“You just want me to start wearing knee socks.”

He can feel his grin turning into something more. Piz looks like he’s preparing to run, and Logan leans in to Veronica’s space. “Oh, don’t tease me.”

She grins and pushes at his chest. “Stop. Public. Blushing. Badness.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he tells her as Parker does another rendition of her victory dance in front of the lanes. “Go bowl into another gutter.”

When the bloodbath finally ends, Veronica slinks to his side. “I hate losing.”

“I know you do, sugarpuss,” he tells her. “But it’ll help you gain character.”

“I already have a lot of character,” she states petulantly. Parker snickers. “Is it possible to have too much character?”

Piz laughs, and they all turn and look at him. “A Buffy quote. It’s funny.”

They walk out, and Veronica waves at the other two. “We’ve got to go figure out case logistics, so, night!”

Logan waves as well, and as he opens the car door, asks, “We do?”

“Truthfully, I just couldn’t stand any more fun,” she tells him. “It’s exhausting.”

Logan glances at her affectionately as they climb into his car. “You’re right. Hanging out with people you enjoy the company of is just so darn hard.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He fluffs her hair and pokes her in the side, and then drives them home.

“She wants me to find out if Piz likes her,” Veronica complains to him about Parker as they collapse on their couch. “What am I supposed to do? Pass a note? Scribble it on his trapper keeper?”

He groans. “Veronica, I know it’s been a while, but you can do this. You can have girl friends. And you can do girl friendly things.”

She glares at him, sullen. “Do you remember what happened when I talked to Brad Stark?”

He grins at the memory. “Oh, yeah. Poor Suzy Doyle.” Logan shakes his head. “Okay, so you’ve never been able to do this. Maybe now is the opportunity to turn this ship around.”

“Do you really see that happening?”

His grin widens. “No. But maybe this time you shouldn’t go up to the guy and say, ‘X likes you. What do you think about that?’ And you definitely shouldn’t report back, word for word, what he thinks about that if it is in any way not flattering.”

“You’re impossible,” she tells him before scanning their coffee table and picking up his test. “Hey, did you get an A?”

“Yeah,” he tells her as he stretches, “but the cheating kind of dampens the whole thing.”

“You’re only cheating yourself,” she sing songs.

It’s been sitting on him, uneasily for days, so he tells her. “I got off easy. You know that kid Horshack? From the, uh, that prison experiment? He got caught doing two tests. They busted him. And guess who else? That, uh, that psycho guard that was tormenting him so bad, Rafe? Yeah, he, uh, he was taking his test for him. You believe that?” She looks appalled, shakes her head. He continues, “People are crazy, huh?”

“Those prison experiments...” She trails off. He turns, concerned. 

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. It just seems weird, you know? That the Stockholmishness would happen so quickly.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Let’s go get something to eat, you know, that’s real.”

Veronica moans, and puts her arms up to be pulled off the couch. “I don’t know how real it is, but I’ve got a craving for the dining hall’s hamburgers. You in?”

Logan grabs her arms and yanks her up. “Only you would want cafeteria food when we could go anywhere and get anything.”

“I’m still getting used to the perks. Don’t worry. Next semester, I’ll let you wine and dine me to death.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he tells her. “Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m losing boyfriend points rapidly by how often I feed you french fries.”

When they get on campus, he sends Veronica to scout for a table. Because, apparently, it isn’t just his girlfriend who gets burger cravings at 9 at night. Logan is paying for their dinners when he catches sight of Wallace at a different register. He jogs carefully over to him, balancing the trays. Wallace turns just as he catches up. “Hey, Logan. What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Logan shoots back. “Just grabbing some dinner. How’d you do on that sociology exam?”

Wallace shrugs. “Pretty well. You know.”

“Yeah. I know. Want to tell me that your roommate knows Veronica and I are living together?”

Wallace laughs. “Yeah, I told Piz that. But, man, does he have it bad for Vee. Thinks she’s the sugar plum fairy or some nonsense. Nothing I’ve told him has changed his mind.”

“Have you told him inviting girls who have boyfriends on dates is generally frowned upon? And that those boyfriends may take it upon themselves to beat the shit out of him?”

Wallace looks over at him. “You’re not really sweating this, are you? Because Veronica is head over heels for you, man. She looks at Piz like he’s a puppy.”

“She likes puppies,” Logan tells him grudgingly. "She thinks they’re cute. And cuddly.”

“Yeah, well, if you’re going to kill him, make it look like a suicide in the room okay? And wait till the last six weeks of the semester. I’m pretty sure that’ll get me a 4.0.”

Logan looks at him, amused. “Flailing a bit?”

“Mechanical engineering is kicking my ass! Wallace exclaims, gesturing erratically with his water bottle. “And not even the power of love and faith held within Vee’s snickerdoodles is helping.”

Logan throws his arm around Wallace’s shoulder. “Don’t let her hear you say that. You’ll get cut off. That’s what happened to Dick.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not why he got cut off,” Wallace says in all seriousness, and Logan turns sharply to look at him head on. 

“What do you mean?”

Wallace shrugs. “Not my business to tell you. Ask Veronica.” He looks at his watch and groans. “Do you know I have four study sessions a week for this class, and I’m still drowning? College sucks.”

“That it does,” Logan concurs. “It does at that. Veronica and I are chowing down over there, if you’d like to join us.”

“The library is open for another two hours. My butt will be in that building, in a chair, desperately trying to commit these formulas to memory,” Wallace tells him, looking exhausted.

“Alright. Just, there’s such a thing as too much studying.”

The guy scoffs. “Not in this program, there isn’t.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, any dialogue from the show is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

As they wait for Steve to show up for his private eye debut, Logan joggles his leg nervously. He’s not really sure why. The guy doesn’t look like a threat; at least, not like much of one. It’s not like he doesn’t think he can take him if it comes to that. It’s something else. 

He hates that it floats up in his mind, but he remembers his mother, from a long time ago. He would be watching her on set, waiting for that moment when his mom became someone not his mom. She would shake her arms out, again and again. It looked to him like she was trying to fly. When he was older and asked about it, she had held her glass up to hide her lips. “Nerves,” she told him. “No matter how often or how infrequently I do it, the stage always makes me feel like I’m going to pieces.” He remembers how she looked lighter having said it, like the feeling of complete and utter lack of control was something to chase after. He didn’t get it, not then. It wasn’t until he began courting that state of being out of control himself that he understood what it was.

But, he thinks, it is stupid to feel this way here and now. This is just a job. An element of acting, and element of danger, but just an element. He glances over at Cliff, who stands smirking at him. 

“Ready to see if those genes of yours translate into any talent?”

He’s ready for that, has been since Veronica pulled him into this farce. Ready for someone to mention the family profession. “That’d mean there would have had to be talent in the genes in the first place. The Barrymores, we ain’t.”

“I liked some of Lynn’s early works,” Veronica offers from her position at the desk. Cliff glances back at her. 

“You doing okay there, Vee? Need any refreshers?” 

She mock glares at him. “Are you suggesting that my secretarial duties aren’t up to snuff? Because, sir, I think you’ll find I’m doing quite well. There’s a whole pot of coffee made and everything.”

Logan wishes he were fast and loose like them, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. As if his mother’s constant almost-panic at performing hadn’t slithered its way into his bones as well. “Glad you two are having fun.”

Veronica gets it. “Oh, honey bunches. You’re going to do great. I know it.”

“Yeah, kid,” Cliff joins in. “Just read the script. You don’t even have to look up.”

Veronica reaches over the desk, squeezes his hand, and says softly, “It’s go time.”

He nods, can feel the sweat drip down his back, and gulps in air. He can do this. He can play this part. It isn’t as easy as standing tall behind her as Veronica tries to bully information out of people. But this is what she needs and this is what she’s asked him to do, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t succeed. 

His mouth is dry and he can hear the roughness of his throat echo out into the words. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, but he makes sure he doesn’t look fully at their mark as he enters the office. He’s running through the lines again when Veronica calls, “Hey, Mickey, they’re ready for you.”

Cliff sighs dramatically. “Well, he’s not ready for them. What did you do, kid? Gargle with bleach this morning?” 

Logan lets his mouth go slack jawed and he manages to get out an eloquent, “Huh?” before Cliff continues on. “I can’t have you go in there, like this. It’ll make a mockery of my agency. I thought you had talent!” Logan flinches, like this criticism is real, like Cliff means it. He hates himself a little for it. Cliff spins wildly, and points at the mark. “You! Are you prepared?”

The guy nods. “Yeah. I am.”

“Take his turn then.”

“If you’re sure -”

Logan sighs, defeated. “Yeah, man. I gotta get through this.”

Steve nods, and heads through the door covered with head shots Veronica managed to score somehow. He holds his breath as he hears the dean say, “Steve, welcome.”

Show time. He and Cliff move to the door, and Veronica slips in ahead of them. He doesn’t want her in there. Cliff doesn’t either. But she made it clear that it was her operation and they were on for the ride, nothing else. He crosses his arms to make himself look bigger. Cliff doesn’t bother.

The guy goes to leave. He and Cliff don’t move out of the way. “You can leave in a minute,” Veronica says softly from her corner. “But first, you should listen.”

Steve doesn’t look happy and he whirls back around. Logan tenses, tries to figure out the best route for getting between him and Veronica.

It’s because of this that he almost misses the explosive real reason for the meeting, when Mindy drops the, “Jason is dying. He has bone cancer. He needs a bone marrow transplant. He needs you, Steve.”

Veronica gives a little gasp, and Logan moves away from the door. Steve still looks angry, but sits. “How do you know I’m a match?”

Mindy goes and sits in the chair next to the one Steve has occupied. “From the paternity test. You are a match, thank god. Can you do this? This is your chance, Steve. You can be his dad again. Do this. Please.”

Logan knows it isn’t going to win him over. He knows it’s not from the second Mindy makes the mistake of hanging the opportunity and threat of fatherhood over the guy’s head. It was a stupid move, and he makes sure he doesn’t turn to see the sour expression on Veronica’s face.

Steve’s expression hardens. “You know something? There was a time when I could have been around. I could have been there for Jason, but you kept me away from him. You turned him against me.”

Logan watches impassively as Mindy blusters back, and all he can think is that these people, as smart as they may be, are profoundly stupid.

It isn’t until the dean steps in that Logan reassesses. There’s no way these people are actually smart. If they were, they wouldn’t be spouting such bullshit, acting like they have the higher ground when they’re beggars just praying for a miracle.

“Yes, Steve, please do us a favor,” the dean threatens, “And see if you can act like an actual human for three seconds out of your otherwise completely worthless life. You're going to do this. I don't care if I have to break you in half and suck the marrow out of your bones myself. You're going to do this for your son.”

Logan sees it coming, the way he knew it would from Mindy’s first and bad opening pitch. “He’s not my son. He’s your son. She made that perfectly clear.”

The guy pushes back, and heads out of the office. Veronica makes no moves to stop him. When the dean tries to follow, Cliff blocks his path. Which is good, because Logan feels too frozen to have thought to. There is a silence for a second, with three fifths of the room stunned by the new information, and two fifths stunned at the complete failure.

“That went well,” Logan snarks, and looks to Veronica for where to go. What he sees is a Veronica who is so mad her face is set in stone. 

“You lied,” she grinds out to the dean and his wife. “You lied to me.”

The wife steps forward. “We had to. We needed to find him, and we needed to get him to agree -”

“Doesn’t look like he did that, does it?” Veronica cuts her off. “Maybe I could have come up with a better plan if I had known you wanted to convince him to undergo a medical procedure. Maybe I could have - we could have - coached you so you had a better game plan than just insulting him and threatening him.” Her lip curls up. “Guess that sense of entitlement you got from the car included a giant amount of hubris as well.”

Dean O’Dell steps forward, and Logan moves to put himself between his girlfriend and the man. “Don’t,” he warns. The dean shrinks back, looking old and haggard.

“Get out,” Veronica tells them. “Get out of my office.”

Logan straightens, pulling himself up to his full height. When the couple doesn’t move, Cliff moves in as well. “She asked you to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” the Dean apologizes. “We didn’t see any other way.”

Veronica doesn’t move. She just stares them down until they walk past. Cliff shrugs toward her and follows them out. Logan pushes against her shoulder, and she leans into him, muttering about clients. “What are you going to do?”

She shrugs. “Not a thing. I can’t make that guy save his kid. And besides, I have another case that I’ve been neglecting. My case.” She sighs. “Tina called. Looks like Mr. Rory Finch has booked another room for Saturday night. Want to get a room at the Grande so we have reason to be sneaking about?”

“Only if the presidential suite’s available,” he tells her. “Gotta have the best.”

“Nothing less will keep you in my favor,” she tells him, but Logan can see she’s still stuck on the O’Dells.

“Hey,” he calls to her. “There was nothing you could have done if they were going to play it this way. I could have told them he wasn’t going to roll the second she tried to play the parent card.”

Veronica grits her teeth. “I know. I just - what is it you say about adults?”

“You mean, my categories of weak, corrupt, or cruel?” 

“Yeah.” She stares off in the direction the dean and his wife left. “I can figure out Steve pretty easily. But are the O’Dells weak, or corrupt, do you think?”

Logan sighs. “I think they’re weak.” She looks surprised at his answer. “Corrupt’s too easy, and they could be that, too. But they’re people who look like they’re used to getting their way without having to work any angle. They seriously thought that guy was going to roll over when they had nothing to offer him. They weren’t thinking about what to do if he said no.”

Veronica sighs. “Just like every other 09er.”

“Hey,” he tells her, “I resemble that remark.”

She just smirks at him. “Come on, boyfriend. I got desk duty at the library.”


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, any dialogue taken from the show itself is correct courtesy of vmtranscripts.com. Any show dialogue altered is based on the original dialogue from vmtranscripts.com. Basically, what I'm saying here is, thanks vmtranscripts.com!

The presidential suite hasn’t changed much in the months since he left it. There’s still a balcony. There’s still a perpetually full minibar. There’s still a big screen television and the same modernist furniture meant to exude money. It’s also still as depressing as fuck, and he can’t wait until Veronica figures out what in the hell is happening so they can get out of this manufactured hell hole and back to their house. The place where Veronica’s furniture clashes with the stuff he buys that is too expensive and only this side of comfortable. The place where her photographs litter the walls and the tables. The place where everything there is something they’ve chosen. 

The place with windows, and natural light.

“It’s Mindy O’Dell,” Veronica opens with as she slides back into the suite that had been home. He’s a little weirded out by that assertion.

“What do you mean ‘It’s Mindy O’Dell’?” She blinks at him.

“She’s sleeping with Landry.” Logan’s still confused. He still doesn’t know where to go with this. 

“And she was jealous of the obvious admiration he had for you, and was somehow tech competent enough to know how to backdate your paper on a website?”

Veronica stills, completely. He knows this stillness. It’s her ‘I’ve figured something big out’ stillness. “No. It has nothing to do with O’Dell, except for the part where she’s sleeping with Landry.”

Logan shakes his head. “Is this some crazy test they give to see if you can actually solve crimes?”

“No. I don’t know. I’ll have to check it out. I just - who would want me to know about Landry and O’Dell? Who else could know about Landry and O’Dell?”

“I don’t know,” Logan tells her. They stand there for a second, silent. He decides to bring up the second, more pressing point. “So... What do we do about this?”

She shrugs. “I guess I deal with it when I deal with it.”

“So, she’s sleeping with your professor while married to the dean of Hearst, after hiring you to find her son’s father so he can have the chance of being cured of the bone cancer that will result in his death?” Logan feels like right now, Veronica’s White Board of Case Notes would be a good thing to have. He almost regrets making fun of her for wanting it. Clearly, she knows more about the complicated interconnectedness of the world than he does.

“That about sums it up,” she tells him. “Some days, I feel like we’re living in a really bad soap opera.”

“Passions level of soap opera,” Logan agrees.

Veronica nods. “Yeah. And all I want to do is get to Days of Our Lives levels. I don’t even have hope of getting out of the genre entirely. Just...” She flops onto the couch. “Grown ups suck. Let’s not do that whole getting older thing, okay?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for years,” Logan chides. “Now you’re finally on my wavelength. Are we telling the dean about his wife’s after school hobby?”

She grimaces. “No. I - this wasn’t the job. It’s my own thing. And I don’t want to get into it, not now. Not with Jason dying.” He joins her on the couch. She curls into him. “I’d like to think, that’s why this is happening. I want to think that we can do these things, be with people, and not - but I don’t know. Most days, I think everyone’s doomed to failure, and heartbreak.”

“Cheating’s a decision.” He’s thought about this a lot, for a long time. He’s thought about this since the first time he suspected Aaron had someone on the side. He thought about it more when he knew that Lilly was seeing other people, before he had proof that she was. He thought about it a lot in those days after Veronica caught his kiss with that girl she and Lilly were friends with for a hot minute, and he thinks about it now. “No one is doomed to it. It’s just selfishness and self-centeredness and an active betrayal.”

“You don’t think it happens too often for it to just be those things?” She looks at him, eyes shadowed.

“No. I think it happens a lot because people are weak, and mean, and small minded. I think people put what they want above everything else, and I think a lot of people delude themselves into thinking they’re the hero when they’re really the dick who just fucks everyone else over.” 

He thinks that he’s been the deluded dick enough times to speak about this comfortably, from defending Duncan’s interests when he thought Veronica had done something unspeakably horrible for them to break up to every small and large injustice he perpetrated over the years in the name of fun or excitement or anger or just because he was bored. He hates to think it, but just calling Beaver ‘Beaver’ instead of Cassidy when the guy consistently and softly corrected it was its own moment of deluded dickery. 

Veronica looks unconvinced. “I don’t know. I don’t know how you can trust that it’s not inevitable. That we’re not all doomed to destroy each other.”

He knows about this, too. Or, at least, he pretends to. He thinks about his mother diving into the bottle - alcohol or pills - every time his father raised his fist or made him get a belt. He thinks about Lilly, and how she loved him, but not enough not to follow her own inhibitions. He thinks about Veronica, and how much he had loved her before, when she was sweet and soft and so trusting.

“We’re all assholes, Ronica. That’s the truth of it. And the better people put aside their assholery for the good of the people they love, so they don’t lose the person they love. The best people do it out of the goodness of their hearts. But most people suck, and they think that if the other person loves them enough, being an asshole won’t change that.”

He thinks about the summer, after. When he had Veronica and lost her, because he was too tied up in the circle of destruction to recognize that he was hurting her and scaring her; because he honestly believed that if she loved him, she would follow him down the rabbit hole even if it meant burning the world. Because he had cast himself as the protagonist, when that role would always and forever be Veronica’s.

She looks thoughtful, which he guesses is a good thing. “It’s so funny that you manage to be the romantic,” she tells him. “After everything, you still believe in the happy ending.”

“I have to,” he responds, and can’t help but pull her close. “If I don’t have the happy ending to dream on, then I don’t have anything to keep me going.”

One day, he thinks, it would be nice to tell her that his happy ending isn’t roses and chocolate and a life without strife. It’s just being able to deal with the slog of the world, without feeling the weight of it constantly pressing in against him. He believes in love, because he believes that love is the only way to be made better. He believes in love, because he’s seen what it can do in the opposite of ways. He knows Aaron loved him, even with everything. He knows his mother loved him. He knows Lilly loved him. And he knows he loved all of them, even when he hates them. He believes he’s better for having loved Veronica Mars. He hopes she’s better for having loved him, too.

But he doesn’t tell her that, because she can’t hear it. He doesn’t think she’s capable of hearing it, not right now, when she’s still trying to figure out that he won’t leave her. That there are people in her life she can love without worrying they’ll disappear, or hurt her so deeply she won’t be able to get up again. He knows how important it is to her that she feels like she’ll always be able to get up again. 

Instead he tells her, “I ordered us room service when you were off being Nancy Drew. Steak for me, buffalo burger and fries for you.”

She leans back into the couch, pulling away from him a bit, her eyes distant and her mouth resting in the faintest of frowns. “Yeah, thanks.”

He just leans in to her, kisses her brow. He slides up and puts on the television. With Veronica in her own little world, it’s either find something to distract himself or go insane for wondering what she’s wondering about. The moments where she’s maudlin and discussing the futility of love are the moments he gets the jittery panic where he thinks everything he’s built for himself and her is going to come crashing down. So, bad sit coms it is.

When the food comes, he lets the waiter in. Veronica is still slumped on the couch. “Thanks, here’s a five.”

The guy nods, and Veronica comes to life. “Jeff Ratner?”

He feels a bit lost again. “You guys know each other?”

“This is the guy, the one who’s trying to get me kicked out of Landry’s class.” It isn’t hard to tell that Veronica is furious, and Logan’s a little impressed that the waiter stands his ground.

“You should be. You cheated.”

“And you happen work at the Grande.” She tilts her head inquisitively. “What did you want me to find out about Rory Finch?”

Waiter-Ratner has the befuddled look people get when Veronica questions them, and shifts the way people tend to when she’s narrowed her entire focus on them. He personally gets excited by it, just like he does her left-field questions, but he can respect this traditional type response. “What are you talking about? Who in the holy hell is Rory Finch? And I don’t just happen to work here, alright? I’ve worked here two years. But you don’t notice the little people, because you’re too busy lounging with Captain Moneybags here.”

Logan bristles, holds it in. Because Veronica doesn’t lounge with him. Veronica never stops. She’s the perpetual motion machine of humanity, always trying to outmaneuver tragedy before it can tear her world apart again. But telling this guy Ratner that won’t win him any favors with Veronica or change his mind in the slightest. So he just says, “That’s Admiral Moneybags.”

The guy half nods in his direction. “Admiral. Welcome back. I trust the steak is to your liking.”

“Always has been before,” he answers.

The guy nods again. “Goodnight then.” Spins and leaves the room.

He walks over to Veronica. “Well, that’s my girl, spreading sunshine whereever she goes.”

She looks vaguely defeated. “Guess I’m one of the assholes too, huh?”

He shrugs. “So you never noticed him before. He’s the help. His primary function is to not get noticed. If you had, he would have been doing his job wrong. And then we would have had to get him fired.”

She glares half heartedly at him. “I should have noticed. What kind of a PI am I if I don’t recognize the people around me?”

“A human one,” Logan tells her. “One who had more important things to do than categorize the hotel staff. Get over it, let it lay, whatever. Waiter #2 and his superiority complex over his inferiority complex is nothing you should be worried about.”

“But -”

“But nothing,” he tells her firmly. “He doesn’t know your life. He doesn’t know my life. He’s judging you on literally shit evidence. Fuck him.”

She gives him a smile this side of wicked. “Really? You want me to do that? Because I thought you were all for the happy ending?”

He growls at her, low, and scoops her up. Kisses her softly. “Fuck me, then. Let’s work out your issues the best way I know how.”

She stiffens a bit at that, but kisses him back. “I don’t want to know how you work out your issues.”

“Hey.” He leans back, but still holds her tight. “You’re the only one I want to work out my issues with. Got it?”

She releases the tension, and slides against him more fully. “Okay.”

She doesn’t believe him, not fully. He’s not sure if she ever will. But as he kisses her, he pours it into every touch. He wants her. He craves her. He can’t think of anyone else when he’s touching her. He puts her down and kisses her again. “What about room service?”

“Eh,” he fluffs that complaint away. “We can always get another batch.”

She kisses him back. “Or, after, we can take it home with us and heat it up there.”

“You’re a fucking genius,” he murmurs into her throat as he works on removing her shirt. “An absolute intellectual powerhouse.”

She laughs, hearty and long. It’s the faintest glimpse, a momentary sliver, of his happy ending.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All dialogue taken from the show itself is courtesy of vmtranscripts.com.

He meets Parker for lunch, because she called and he has nothing better to do. He knows why she wants to talk to him, what she wants to talk about, and he can’t figure out a way to explain to her how not helpful he is going to be in this situation. That she should really be talking to anyone else, because Logan Echolls? He’s in no shape to be putting anyone back together. He’s done his hardest for Veronica, and she’s still broken. He wants to point to that, when Parker looks at him with hopeful eyes. But he doesn’t. He’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to think any less of Veronica, or if it’s because he doesn’t want people to see how badly he’s failed her.

So he gets his lunch and pays for hers, and she chit chats idly about her classes and how she has a paper to write for Tuesday she hasn’t started yet. He nods along, mentions Veronica’s recent events in her criminology class. Because he doesn’t really care about classes and she does, and because Veronica is never so whole as when she’s fixing other people. If Parker goes to her instead of to him, it’ll be two birds with one stone; and he won’t worry about messing up another blonde’s life.

As they slide into their respective chairs, close enough to stop random passersby from glomming on but far enough away for it to just be a friendly lunch, Logan can see her steeling herself, and she asks, “Did it - did it change her?”

There’s no need to ask what Parker is talking about, though since it’s Veronica, there should be. It just goes to show how little they’ve all let Parker in. He tugs at his shirt sleeves, musses with his hair. Nods, but follows up with, “Hey, I don’t know how much. It didn’t help, but she was having a shit year without it. Maybe she would have become something close to this Veronica anyway. So, yeah. But so does everything else.” He stares directly into her eyes. “You don’t have to become Veronica Mars. Figure out the best way to deal with this for you.”

Parker smiles tightly at him. “You don’t want another Veronica?”

“I have problems enough keeping up with the one,” he jokes. “But Parker, honestly, Veronica’s way is Veronica’s way. You’re not Veronica.”

“Some guy brushed to close to me in the halls the other day,” she confides. “I yelled at him. Just, yelled that he was being a jerk and needed to watch where he was going. I don’t even know why.”

He watches her for a couple of seconds. She looks nervous. He sighs. “That’s not being Veronica. That’s being stressed. You’re probably allowed to be. But what do you want to be?”

“I want to be happy,” Parker tells him. “But Veronica probably didn’t want to be -”

“Oh, yes she did,” Logan tells her firmly. “Veronica wanted to be exactly what she became, because it was the way she could deal with all the shit that was being thrown at her. By me, and my friends.” Parker looks surprised, so he feels free to continue. “There’s a reason she’s like this, Parker. And it’s because it was how she figured out to survive. You’ve got people. You’ve got Mac. You’ve got those other giant poster women who are there for you in ways Veronica never got. You’ve got Veronica.”

“And you?” She is all doe eyes and full lips, and he’s reminded of another innocent blonde for a fraction of a second before he banishes her back into the recesses of his mind. 

“Yeah,” he tells her haltingly. “You do.”

He wants to do better, this time. He thinks maybe he can be better to this girl, keep her from getting shattered like the others. He thinks that, and then he sees Lamb and some guy he doesn’t know heading toward him. Parker eyes their progress too.

“Do you think they caught the guy? The rapist?” She looks so overjoyed at the possibility it hurts him to pop it.

“No, I don’t.” If it had been that, Lamb would have had a press conference. Parker would have been a phone call made by Sacks or one of those other deputies Veronica always manages to be friends with. No house calls. This is about him. Which brings him immediately to Veronica, because she’s the only one he’s doing law-adjacent things for these days. 

“Logan Echolls,” Lamb exclaims, “what have you been getting into lately?”

“Right now, a delicious burger.” He waits for a couple of seconds.

Lamb is unamused. “This here is Detective Sanchez with the LAPD. He’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

He nods at the two men, and swivels a bit to be facing Parker more. “Do me a favor? Go grab Veronica for me. She’s working a shift at the library right now.”

Parker turns away from her half eaten salad, and looks more than a little nervous. “Sure, I can do that.”

Logan tries to give her a reassuring smile, but she’s gone before he can work it out. “Alright. Ask away.”

“Young man,” the older detective begins, “is this your card?”

He takes the pet psychic card back, examines it, and hands it back. “That’s a bit complicated.”

“Complicated, how?”

Logan takes a bite of his burger. “It isn’t mine, in the strictest sense.”

“You presented yourself as Johnny B. Goode? Pet psychic?” 

Logan bites another chunk off, just to watch Lamb get redder. He does. “I did do that, yes.”

“Did you think it was clever, using Keith Mars’ old cards?” Lamb cuts in.

“It has your father-in-law’s old cell phone number on the back,” Sanchez explains. “The sheriff here knew it immediately.”

“He wasn’t my father-in-law,” Logan corrects. “I’m not married.”

“My apologies. I had assumed. Young man, the apartment complex manager says you ordered that he allow you to the apartment of Steven Batando.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Logan protests. “I was a pet psychic. I had literally no jurisdiction.”

“No one is arguing that you did,” Sanchez offers drily back, and Logan snorts. 

“I like you. You ever think about moving out of LA and becoming a small town sheriff?”

Lamb’s frown deepens. “Why were you impersonating a pet psychic?”

“I didn’t say I was impersonating one, did I?”

“Why would you be a pet psychic?”

Logan shrugs, looks up for Veronica. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but according to the tabloids, money’s tight. Apparently my newly discovered half-brother is taking me for all I have. And so is my hustler of a girlfriend.”

Sanchez looks unmoved. Lamb growls, “So you went there to be a pet psychic?”

“There may have been a sick fish that needed some help.” He’s baiting Lamb, he knows it. It’s a bad idea, but the smile that is getting pulled across his face is genuine.

Sanchez steps in. “So, are you saying that Mr. Batando employed you for his fish?”

He stills. “What’s this about, exactly?”

Veronica comes jogging up, face tight. Sanchez looks at her, and Lamb leans over. “This is the girlfriend.” Turns to Veronica. “I think he called you a hustler.”

Sanchez nods. “Miss Mars, Mr. Echolls, Mr. Batando has been missing for the past fifty-two hours.”

Lamb smirks from behind, and Logan wants to just beat him down. “And guess what? Logan here is the leading suspect in the disappearance.” Leans a bit closer. Logan can feel Veronica’s hand slip onto his forearm, can feel it tightening as he does. “I told you I’d be picking you up later.”

“So, Mr. Echolls, do you mind telling us what you were doing in Mr. Batando’s apartment?” Logan thinks fleetingly that this man is actually professional, instead of just playing professional like Lamb is. He reminds him a little of Veronica’s father.

“Come on, Echolls. The guy’s girlfriend was worried sick. You should have seen her crying. It was heartbreaking.” Veronica increases the pressure on Logan’s arm. He doesn’t open his mouth. “You have anything you want to say, Veronica?”

She smiles. “Yes, actually. Maybe you should discuss this with my lawyer.”

Logan glances beyond the two men, and sure enough, Cliff is jogging toward them. His tie is askew and half off, and his hair is not nearly as perfect as it usually is. When he gets in range, he huffs out, “Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem here?”

“They think we had something to do with a man’s disappearance,” Veronica fills him in.

Cliff smiles, but the confidence is lost by his continued panting. “Do you plan on charging my clients? Either of them?”

Sanchez stares impassively at Cliff. Logan takes a second to ponder how this looks from his perspective - two college students and one slimy lawyer. He’ll probably end up staying in LA.

“No, Mr. -”

“McCormack,” Cliff supplies.

“No, Mr. McCormack. Not at this time.”

“Great,” Cliff says, still gasping. “If you wish to speak to either of them further, you can contact my office. I have a card, but -”

“I know your number,” Lamb sneers. “It’s all over all the bus benches. Call Cliff and get off.”

“There’s also a jingle. I can’t sing it now, but it’s a catchy little diddy.”

Logan nods. “I can testify to that. Even in a court of law.”

Veronica smirks. No one else does.

“We’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Echolls.” Sanchez gives him a condescending glance, and Logan grins. 

“Say hi to the paparazzi for me, will you?”

As they leave, Cliff turns to them more fully, allowing his hands to drop to his knees. “Next time, let yourselves get arrested first. I can’t be running around town intercepting your interactions with the police. It’s going to give me a heart attack.”

“You should maybe think about working out,” Veronica tells him. “And we appreciate it, we do.”

“Kid, you know you’re family,” Cliff tells her, and Logan tries pulling a bit further away. “And now you’ve made this one family, too. So, just tell me, what exactly is it you two have gotten yourselves into?”

Veronica purses her lips. “I’m not sure. I’m going to have to make some calls.” She gives Cliff one of her open and needy faces. A face that used to be real, used to be Veronica, and is now just a mask. “Follow me to the office?”

Cliff chuckles. “Sure thing, Vee. I’ll be there.”

Cliff lumbers off in the direction he had come running from, and Logan shakes his head. He takes a second to wonder about how Veronica solders such loyalty to her from such different people. He doesn’t think he has anyone except for Veronica who would come racing toward him as if everything depended on it, and she has so much more than him to do that for her. Then again, he reflects, that may be it. He knows he’s not the only one she would put everything on the line for.

“So, you and Parker were doing lunch, huh?” Her voice is small.

He pulls her close. “Yeah. She’s looking for a friend. Honestly, I think she just wants someone who will be able to tell her that everything will get better. You’d probably be better for this than I am.”

“No,” she tells him. “You’re the guy for that job.”

He grimaces. “Why?”

“Because, with you, things are better.” Veronica pauses, turns to him. “I don’t tell you it enough, or at all, because words - they’re hard. For me. But you make it better, Logan. You’re good at making it better.”

“You’re still not good.” It hurts, to say, to acknowledge. Her face becomes drawn.

“I know. But when I’m with you, when you’re being sweet or taking care of me or being an asshole, when I’m with you, I feel like I could be. I want to be, and not just because -”

“Because why?”

She doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t push. She waits by his car for him to unlock it, and he does. She slides into the passenger seat, face still tight. He lets her be. He starts the car, and she speaks. 

“Parker’s really pretty. She’s bubbly and just - she’s like sunshine and air and there’s nothing to her that isn’t good. I think, sometimes, you’re going to get sick of me. That I’m not going to be enough. I don’t know a lot about, well, and you probably weren’t thinking about having to.” Her eyes are glassy. He wants so badly to figure out what she’s trying to tell him. “Anyway. It’s hard. To not be better. To not be good. Because all I want is to be good again. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I was just, good. Without all everything else weighing down on me. Anyway, I saw how you were with Hannah, and I know how you were with Lilly, and I hate that you have to take care of me. I hate that part of this, where I’m always afraid I’m going to just come apart. I hate that we can’t just be happy. And it’s not you. It’s me. I can’t just be happy.”

“Veronica,” he breathes out, “all I want is you. Hannah, she wasn’t - I was using her. To get me out of trouble, at first, and then because she saw me as someone who wasn’t damaged. She made me feel good, yeah, but it wasn’t all me. I was - God, she didn’t know about me. I didn’t have to deal with any of the crap in my life, because she didn’t know about it. And Lilly, she - I loved Lilly. But I couldn’t be all me with her either. I mean, we were barely old enough to drive, and you and Duncan and Lilly were this great escape from my crappy life. But you, you know who I am. I don’t know how else to tell you that, that you know everything. And you’re still here. I could never get sick of you. You’re everything I want.”

She brushes the tear that managed to escape away. He pretends not to notice. “Want to go figure out what happened to Steve Batando after he left us?”

He smiles at her. Back to the comfort of being law enforcement’s numbers one and two suspects. “Sounds like a good time.”


	41. Chapter 41

It’s Weevil who tells Veronica where the dean is, still sitting in his office, and it’s Weevil who leads them into the dean’s office, past the secretary whose job it is to keep people out with a leering grin and the bawdiest of winks and a low, “Gotta see the dean”. 

Logan gapes, if only on the inside, as the woman blushes and ducks her head down, telling him softly, “Oh, okay”, like she’s been completely charmed by the ex-con.

He doesn’t see the appeal, personally, and whispers that to Veronica. Who just smirks at him and answers, “That’s why he wants to know about you too.”

He’s a little unsettled by that, that both he and Weevil have actively thought about the other’s allure; and he’s more unsettled by the fact that Weevil would ask Veronica directly. But he holds in his questions about why he would ask and how she answered as they walk down the hallway. Veronica has switched modes from gently teasing to angered badass, and he knows not to try to engage at this point. Weevil swings the door open and she strides on through ahead of them, and he brings up the back of the line, closing it.

“What, did they leave you here to hold down the fort?” Dean O’Dell looks up, seemingly surprised by this interruption, and Logan watches his eyes widen as he takes in the blonde terror in front of him. Actually, he reassesses, the widening is probably more do to his and Weevil’s eerily similar stances as they flank her, arms crossed and faces sour. The dean, like most of humanity, still hasn’t picked up on the fact that she’s the one to fear. He barely glances back at her before he opens his mouth.

“Gentlemen, Veronica, I -” 

Veronica interrupts, crossing to the desk and leaning into the guy’s space. “See, I can tell you’re getting ready to lie to me and I’m going to tell you right now that’s a bad idea. Because you took advantage of me, and you got the cops looking at my boyfriend, and if you lie to me again, I’m not going to be very inclined to overlook either one of those two facts. So, where the hell is Batando and where the hell is your stepson?”

The dean looks startled, and then folds into despair. “If I tell you, you’re going to go to the police, and Jason won’t get better.”

Veronica softens, Logan sees it happening. “No. If you tell me, and I think you’re being honest, I help you figure a way out that doesn’t put your wife’s ex in a pine box and keeps you and your wife from doing jail time. You did a big thing badly, and you’re still doing it badly. Let me help you fix it.”

“How?” He’s staring at her, and Logan sees the disbelief. “You’re nineteen years old. What could you possibly do to make this better?”

She glances back at them, gives the barest of nods. He and Weevil relax their poses at approximately the same time; and he finds himself annoyed by Weevil’s seemingly innate understanding of his girlfriend. “I’ve got all kinds of friends in all sorts of places. You’re going to tell me what the plan was, and then I’m going to tell you how wrong you were and how we’re going to play it instead. No matter what the plan had been before, it’s probably going to change. But if you think about playing me, I’ll call up my least favorite law enforcement agent and watch him frog march you out of here. Got it?”

Dean O’Dell looks around, looks to Weevil, who nods at him. 

“I trust Vee with my life,” he says, and Logan sees Veronica peacock a little at that. “If she says she can figure out a way to get you out of trouble, she’s got a way to get your ass out of trouble.”

“We found Steve after you arranged the meeting,” O’Dell starts, looking appeasingly up at the three of them. “Knocked him out with some kind of anesthetic, I don’t know what. I’m not a doctor. Mindy has an uncle who works at Sisters of Mercy, in San Diego. He’s the one who got the drugs. He’s the one who helped us figure out what to do once Steve wouldn’t help us voluntarily. That’s where Jason and Mindy are now, San Diego. We planned on doing this, saving Jason, and then letting the chips fall where they may.”

“You were going to let him die.” Veronica looks unemotional. Logan waits for the response.

The dean, for his part, seems horrified at the very idea. “No! God, no. We were going to turn ourselves in. We were going to go to jail.”

“Really? You, your wife, her uncle? You guys were just willing to go to prison for a very long time.” 

“To save Jason. To give him a future. Yes. We were all willing to do that. He’s my son, and I would do anything, sacrifice anything, so he could live.” Veronica looks over at the corner of the room.

“Alright. Well, that’s better than what I thought you were going to say, so, here’s how it’s going to work. I’m going to call an attorney friend, see if we can’t sweeten the pot enough to make Batando not want to press charges once he, you know, wakes up. It’s a good thing you’re willing to sacrifice anything, because you may just end up giving him a lot more than you ever dreamed. I’ll send him up your way with you and he’ll go over your assets with your wife as you’re waiting for Jason to wake up.” She goes to call Cliff, and turns back. “If I were you, I’d be as humble as I ever was, because he has no reason to help you and every reason to make your life hell when he wakes up. Understand?”

The dean nods, once, and Veronica walks out of the room. “I’m sorry,” he tells Logan. “I didn’t realize how this was going to snowball. We never had any intention of dragging you and your girlfriend into this mess.”

He looks genuinely contrite, and Logan nods stiffly back at him. “Well, you know, I get it. I mean, it’s good to see some parental devotion. Even if it meant almost going to jail.”

It’s true. It’s probably one of the reasons Veronica caved so fast, became the marshmallow Wallace claims she always is before O’Dell could finish explaining. Veronica already believes in the goodness of fathers. He doesn’t have that innate faith, but he wants it. He wants to believe that more dads are like Keith Mars and Cyrus O’Dell than they are like Aaron Echolls and Steve Batando.

It’s the awkward silence that gets to Logan first, the three of them standing around waiting for Veronica’s return, and he starts tapping his fingers on the dean’s desk. The other two glare at him, but it’s either this or he starts snarking up a storm and he can’t imagine either one of them would appreciate that.

When he cell phone rings, he can’t find it in him to not mutter, “Oh thank God,” even if Weevil glares at him for it.

It’s Mercer. “I got arrested, dude. I’m down in lock up. Can you come here?”

He sounds tinny and far away, and Logan wonders what it is about the Neptune sheriff’s department phone that makes everyone sound like they will never emerge again.

“Yeah, sure,” he answers. “What are you in for?”

“It’s - I’ll tell you when you get here, okay?”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll be right down.” He bites at his thumb nail and turns to Weevil. “Listen, I got to get a friend. Would you mind giving Veronica a ride?”

He hates to ask it, hates to ask Weevil of all people for anything. But Weevil just says earnestly, “Yeah, man. Whatever she needs.”

Veronica catches him as he walks down the corridor. “What, couldn’t even last five minutes with Weevil?”

“Nope. Couldn’t do it. But luckily, I got saved. A friend needs rescuing. Weevil said he’d give you a ride home.” He pulls her in and kisses her forehead, and she briefly snuggles against him. “You get everything worked out with Cliff?”

“Yeah,” she sighs against his skin. “Cliff says not to trust him, but I don’t know. I think he’s really on the up and up this time. He’s heading over so the O’Dells can formulate a plan.”

“And you?”

“And me what?”

He pulls away enough to see her face. “You heading up to San Diego too, to see this whole thing through?”

She just shakes her head. “Nope. I’ve had enough of the dean and his wife for a while. I’m going to let Cliff take lead on this one.”

He grins into her hair, and she snorts. “Don’t be so happy about it. It’s a sick kid in a hospital. No chance of me getting into trouble.”

“I don’t believe that. I think you could find yourself trouble in, I don’t know, Sesame Street.”

“Big Bird did need help a lot,” she informs him. “Wandering around China. Lost in Japan. Adopted by that family of birds who didn’t let him hang with Snuffy. I could have done some good on that street.”

“You could do good anywhere,” he says fondly, and gives her one last kiss. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Yeah you will,” she promises. He watches her walk away from him, like he is prone to; and this time, she turns around when she reaches the end of the hall, gives him the smallest of waves and a smile. He grins back, ducks his head, and hops once before heading out.

~~~

If there is one place on earth Logan would prefer to never return to, it is the holding block at the Neptune sheriff’s department. But he dutifully follows Lamb back to where Mercer is being held, and ignores the taunts and jibes the guy throws at him about a return stay.

“You rang?” he asks after Lamb leaves him alone, leaning against the table. Mercer looks miserable.

“They got me on those rapes,” Mercer tells him, hanging on the bars Logan knows too well.

“And I was your one phone call?”

Mercer grimaces. “That’s not really how it works.”

Logan grins humorlessly at him. “Yeah, I’ve been arrested enough to know. Try not to piss off Lamb. He’ll take away your privileges as quick as you please while you await the court case.”

“Dude,” Mercer pleads, “you know me. You know I didn’t do this.”

Logan sighs. “Look, man, I don’t know what you want me to do here. I can get you a lawyer, but -”

“Isn’t your girlfriend like a super sleuth or something? Can’t you ask her to prove I’m innocent?” He stares at Mercer, who is small and not at all his usual cocky self within the confines of a jail cell.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” he promises grudgingly, hating that if he does this, if she does this for him, it will push her more deeply into a case he didn’t want her touching in the first place. But it’s Mercer, and the guy is a friend and Lamb is enough of a bastard to arrest someone when he hasn’t done the crime just so he can say he got a criminal off the streets. “But she’s been on this for a while now, and she hasn’t found the guy yet.”

Mercer stills. “She’s been what, investigating?”

“Yeah. The guy got a friend of hers.” It’s a stretch, calling Parker a friend, and she certainly wasn’t one when she was attacked. But explaining to Mercer the quality of Veronica’s moral code isn’t exactly something he’s looking forward to. So, like many instances involving his girlfriend, it’s the simple and slightly fictional account that wins out over the gritty and complicated truth when he explains her to people. Irony at its finest, he thinks.

“Well, she doesn’t have to figure out who’s doing it, right? She just has to prove that it couldn’t be me.”

And that would be fine, if Veronica were the type of person to let things go. If she were the type of person who could wash her hands of crimes being committed around her. She’s not, and Logan shrugs, feeling like he has lost control of the room. “I’ll talk to her. And she’ll probably come and talk to you.”

Mercer manages to produce a shaky smile and a “thanks man”, and Logan stares straight at him.

“Listen, when she comes to talk to you, you’re probably going to have this urge to hide shit. Don’t. Tell her the truth, warts and all.” The least he can do for this guy is to help him navigate the waters Logan himself has almost drowned in more times than he wants to remember.

“Okay,” Mercer answers, sounding confused. “No lying to your girlfriend.”

“No lies, no half truths, no ‘I’d rather not says’. None of it. If you do, she’ll ferret out that truth first, and the possibility of you being screwed increases exponentially.”

Mercer laughs. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty screwed here anyway. But thanks for the advice.”


	42. Chapter 42

Veronica stumbles in, giggling and holding onto Weevil for support, and he watches from where he’s leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Hey!” she calls out happily, “Weevil was just regaling me with tales of being a maintenance worker. Like, this guy on the third floor of which hall? It doesn’t matter, he flooded the entire floor because he flushed like forty condoms at once. And Weevil found him, doing a panicky sort of dance in ankle deep water!”

She starts laughing again, and he watches Weevil hold her up and watch her as he laughs at her. “Why’d he have forty condoms?”

“That’s the best part! He - he - I can’t, you have to tell it.” She points at Weevil and he shakes his head affectionately at her.

“The guy, I guess he couldn’t figure out what to do with ‘em - they were used - and he had been hiding them from his roommate, until he got high and got the great idea to flush them all. Destroy the evidence. Apparently, no one ever taught him about rubber stoppers.”

Logan smirks at that, and Veronica loses herself in hysterics again. “Like, who thinks that’s a good idea?”

“Thirteen year olds,” Logan offers. “And apparently, high college freshmen.”

If there’s one thing he’s learned about Veronica over the years, it’s that she is remarkably perceptive. So when she stops laughing, when she stops and loses all semblance of mirth, he’s ready. “Are you okay?”

“Well,” he hedges, “not really. Lamb arrested Mercer today, for the rapes.”

His girlfriend looks down at the floor, and then glances back up at him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he presses. “And he kind of asked me to see if you could look into it.”

Her face twists, and his heart sinks in response. “Are you sure he didn’t? Parker recognized his cologne...”

“Plenty of guys probably wear that cologne,” he counters, and she looks down again. 

“Yeah, okay,” she answers. “Did you tell him I would?”

“I told him I’d ask you,” he tells her softly. “I don’t like you looking into this anyway. If you don’t want to, I’ll tell him I’ll hire Vinnie or something.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Vinnie?” 

“Or something. Besides you, Vinnie’s the only game in town.”

She and Weevil exchange a glance, and she answers, “Vinnie is the only game in town, officially.”

“For now,” the other guy says. “Vee’s finally got around to getting the paperwork to become a real PI. And that means I’m one step closer to being able to get out of this jumpsuit.”

“But you make it look so good,” she croons back, before switching her attention to Logan. “I’ll talk to him. But if it looks like he’s guilty -”

“He’s not,” Logan answers firmly.

Veronica sighs. “IF it looks like he’s guilty, you’re going to have to accept that too, okay?” She turns back to Weevil with a smirk and a head tilt. “Hey.”

Weevil moves past him in the kitchen and grabs a beer out of the fridge. “You’re still not as badass as you think you are if you’re pulling that.”

She shrugs and smiles winningly at him. “Do I need to be as badass as I think I am if you’re helping me?”

“Yeah, alright. What do you need?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she tells him. “But I want you on board, in case.”

The guy leans against the counter, right next to him. “Yeah, I’m on board. But just so you know, this is going as a favor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Come on. I feel like a movie. Maybe The Thin Man. You want to join us?”

Weevil grabs his beer and he and Logan meander to the living room, as he asks sardonically. “A movie about a rich, white couple solving crime while getting drunk off their asses? Why wouldn’t that appeal to me?”

“Alright. Next time you pick the movie.”

~~~

There is too much noise coming from his front door this early in the morning, without him having had enough caffeine to handle it. After a night of drinking with Weevil and watching movies with Veronica, he needs some time to readjust to the land of the living. He doesn’t get that, though. When he finally makes it over there, Piz stands on his front stoop, shifting from foot to foot. “Hi.”

“What’s up?” He tries to stop himself from offering thinly veiled hostility along with the greeting. It doesn’t go well.

“Well, uh, this - this is Meryl,” Piz says, presenting a younger girl to Logan and then not saying anything else. Meryl smiles shyly up at him.

“Uh huh. And is Meryl a gift with purchase? A temptation? What?” Meryl shifts away from him at that, and Piz flinches. 

“A case! Meryl is a case. For Veronica.” Piz taps his fists together nervously, and Logan inwardly groans. 

Opening the door wider, he says, “Come on in to Casa de Echolls. I’ll be right down with the super sleuth herself.”

“She’s the girlfriend of my neighbor across the hall,” Piz explains as they move into the house. “And, he’s missing.”

“Don’t really care, but I’m sure it’s really sad for you,” he heckles back. The girl catches his arm, looks at him with big, too innocent eyes.

“Sully said he’d pick me up from the airport. I flew in from Sacramento. It’s not like him to flake, so he’s gotta be in big trouble.”

His first impulse is to say something cutting, something filled with snark and derision. But he looks at Meryl, hopefulness pouring from her, and can’t. “Yeah, I’ll go grab Veronica. If you’re thirsty, or hungry, there’s stuff in the fridge.”

She lights up at that, and hugs him. Logan goes stiff, willing this moment with this girl to be over. “Thank you! Everyone in Neptune is so nice.”

“Yeah,” he tells her as he removes her arms. “We’re a regular Mayberry here.”

He wants to hate this girl for the fact that he and Piz exchange equally confused and concerned looks over Meryl’s impression of his home town, but as she idly wanders around his kitchen, he finds he can’t. Instead, he heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time to get as far away from the impulse hugger as he can.

Veronica is in the guest room, fiddling with some paint swatches, and he knocks before entering. “Yeah?”

“Piz,” he tells her regretfully, “is here.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. He brought a case with him. A case named Meryl.”

She lets her hands drop to her sides and gives him her full attention. “What?”

“There’s a girl downstairs who thinks Neptune is Stars Hollow and who managed to misplace her college boyfriend,” he tells her. “If you’re too busy with the Mercer thing, I can send them away.”

“One day, you and I are going to discuss your Piz hatred, but today I’m going to see what the boy’s brought me.”

He sighs, and she kisses him gently on her way by. “Mercer has eighty percent of my attention, I swear, but Lamb won’t let me see him until tomorrow morning anyway. And a girl misplacing her boyfriend? That deserves, like, fifteen percent of my mental faculties. Clearly, we need to start tagging guys before we let them loose.”

“What’s the other five percent for?”

She grins at him, perfect and perfectly Veronica. “That five percent is all for you, babycakes. Five percent of my attention, at all times.”

“Only five?” He faux-pouts at her, and she laughs.

“Well, you sometimes get more, you know. Certain dates. Moments. Times of the day. But you never get less than five.”

“I guess I can live with that,” he murmurs as he kisses her again, and she smiles into it.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you pouting.” She leans up, leans into him. “I guess we shouldn’t leave our guests waiting too long.”

“Why not?” he asks, and she gently punches him.

“Play nice,” she answers, “and you may be rewarded for it later.”

When they return to the kitchen, Logan watches as Piz lights up. Meryl looks a little off-put by the idea that her savior is tiny blonde. “Hi?”

“Hi yourself. Is there anything we can get you? Iced tea? Lemonade? A boyfriend? We at Casa de Mars live to serve.”

Logan grins at her choice of descriptors. “Um, I came down to visit my boyfriend for the weekend? But he never showed up, and now he’s missing. I think something must have happened to him. I wanted to go to the police, but Stosh here told Sully’s RA that you’re good at this sort of thing?”

“Okay, one, I am good at this sort of thing. Two, unless your boyfriend has been missing for forty-eight hours, the sheriff would laugh us both out of the building. High school right?” Off of Meryl’s nod, she continues. “Yeah, the best bet is to try to see if we can track him down before we get Lamb involved.”

“Why would he laugh at me?”

A half a dozen reasons come to mind, and Logan can see that the same is true for Veronica. Instead of telling Meryl any of them, she just says, “Because the sheriff is a moron.”

He loves her for it. Because Veronica, for all the cynicism, for all the snark, for all that she would more than likely agree with in Lamb’s assessment of Meryl and her boyfriend’s relationship, doesn’t hurt people.

“I think I’m just going to go back to the dorms, and wait for him,” Meryl tells them, and Veronica nods.

“Sounds like a plan. Piz and I will come with you. See if we can get the RA to let us into your boyfriend’s room.”

He pulls her into the hallway before she can go. “What do you think you’re going to find?”

“I think I’m going to discover that Sully’s got a chippy on the side, but I also think nothing short of photographic proof is going to convince Meryl of that fact. So, investigative powers, activate!” She puts her fist up to his, and he laughs as she bumps it. She kisses him softly for her goodbye. “I’ll catch you on the flip side.”

When she comes back, hours later, she has Meryl in tow. “It was a bust. Meryl is going to be spending some quality time in one of our guest rooms.” Turns to the girl. “There’s a blond guy living here. Don’t be fooled - he’s an ass. Just tell him you’re a client of mine and that if he messes with you, I’ll kill him. Okay?”

Meryl seems shaken, like becoming a client of Veronica’s is more work than she expected. “Yeah, okay. I can just stay in Sully’s room, though. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Veronica waves that suggestion away as she pulls the girl up some stairs. “I’ve got a credit card number, and I’m going to see if there’ve been any hits on it. And then we’ll go from there in the morning. Logan, can you get her bag?”

He used to compare Lilly to a force of nature; but, he reflects when he sees Meryl’s face as Veronica drags her up the stairs, that description has always applied more to Veronica than to anyone else - even Lilly. He picks up their guest’s bag, and follows them dutifully up the stairs.

“She’s so naive it hurts,” Veronica tells him once they’ve got Meryl all tucked away and they’ve made it to the bedroom. “He’s got a girl circled in that campus freshmen book, and she tells me it can’t be Sully’s circle, because Sully’s circles are more perfect.”

He tugs her to him. “I don’t know. It’s got to be nice to have a girlfriend with that kind of faith in you.”

Veronica pulls away, and shuts down. It takes him a second to figure out why. “Right. Because not seeing the shit flying from left field means that it’s not there. It doesn’t hit you at all.”

“Or,” he responds irritably, “it means that sometimes the person who isn’t trusting misidentifies something as shit flying from left field when there isn’t anything there at all. Sometimes, guys can be faithful. And sometimes, girls recognize their boyfriend’s circles.”

She glares at him, her stares at her mouth, drawn tight into a thin line. “And sometimes, those girls who think their boyfriends only have eyes for them get their hearts broken.”

She turns her back to him and crawls under the covers, puts herself at the edge of the bed as far away from his side as she can get.

~~~

The next morning, there’s still a coldness to their interactions. He worries Meryl might notice, but he also thinks it’s possible that Meryl doesn’t notice anything not related to her boyfriend. When Veronica tells her there haven’t been any charges to the credit card, she deflates.

“Any chance you know his cell phone PIN?” Veronica asks, and Logan tries to look disinterested as he slides a cup of coffee in front of her, sticking to the morning routine they’ve developed even in the face of the weirdness that exists between them. 

Meryl nods and reaches for Veronica’s phone, inputting the numbers. Veronica puts it on speaker, and they sit and listen through a couple of Meryl’s own voicemails. Logan winces at the idea that this girl would be left alone in the baggage claim, hoping her boyfriend was on his way.

“Hey, there, Sully,” the next voicemail plays, and it definitely isn’t Meryl’s voice coming through the crappy speakers this time. “It’s Scarlett. Are we still on for tomorrow night? Food court at eight? You told your girlfriend, right?”

Meryl looks up at the two of them, wide eyed and confused. “Weird. What do you make of that?”

He’s not sure what Veronica’s face is doing, but he hates that his first response to this is to think Veronica is right. That Meryl is wrong to believe in her boyfriend’s goodness. 

“Meryl....” Veronica doesn’t go anywhere with that. It’s like she expects Meryl to figure out what she’s trying to say on her own; and Logan can tell that if you led Meryl to water and then stuck her face in it, she still wouldn’t drink.

“Hey, are you heading back to campus?” Meryl asks. “I think I’m going to check out the dorms again. Maybe he came home last night really late.”

“I can take her, if you need me to,” he offers. Veronica shakes her head.

“No, I’ve got to head out to see Mercer anyway,” she tells him. “I can drop Meryl off before that.”

“See you later?” He hates that he questions it, hates that a little tiff between them makes him feel like there is the chance she won’t come back. But it’s there, and he’d rather deal with her thinking he was clingy than spend hours not knowing.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I’ll catch up with you after Mercer. And then I’ll check and see how you’re doing,” she tells Meryl, “if I don’t hear from you first.”

Meryl nods. “I’ll just grab my stuff, in case Sully’s back. It was nice of you to let me stay over,” she tells Logan. 

“I’ll keep your room made up,” he answers. “Just in case you don’t find him.”

Meryl’s smile flickers, and she nods.

~~~

Logan goes to class, sits through another sociology class where the professor talks about how parenting styles of the middle and lower classes diverge. 

“What about the upper classes?” One of his classmates asks, and he feels every eye turn to him. He looks to his right, where Wallace has continually seated himself throughout the semester. Where everyone else watches him with an eager expectation, Wallace is looking at him with knowing pity. He gives the guy a tight grin and leans over.

“Do you think they want to know about the sex, the drugs, or the rock & roll?” Wallace snorts, and the professor clears his throat.

“As interesting as I’m sure Mr. Echolls is to you all, Annette Lareau did not detail the sociological implications of that class. She did, however, document how children from working class families, when they reached the age of maturity, would often pay their parents rent for the privilege of living at home when middle class children would not expect to. What difference between the two classes does this demonstrate?”

Logan lets himself doze off from there, content in the knowledge that Wallace would kick him if and when the class circles back around to him. Instead, the next time Wallace bumps him it’s to let him know it’s time to go, and he’s incredibly grateful that this class is over and this week is over.

“I’m going to go find Veronica,” he tells the guy as they pack up. “You want to come, maybe save me from explaining to her again that not every guy is going to let every girl down?”

“As fun as that sounds,” Wallace answers, “I only came back to this class because of the stringent attendance policy. Piz and I are holed up in a motel room to study this weekend away. I’m going to pass this engineering class if it kills me.”

“You know,” Logan can’t help but say, “usually when you go to the trouble of renting a room, it’s for that special someone you don’t already live with.”

“Man, the dorms are like a non-stop party time. Girls constantly knocking at the door, people having loud conversations in the hallway, music blasting all day and all night, it’s terrible. The guy I share a wall with, he’s been playing November Rain nonstop this entire month. I’m not even joking. It’s like he’s trying to drive me to Axel levels of insanity. And his desk is right across from mine, so Piz doesn’t even have to deal.”

“I’d switch desks on him,” Logan tells him. “Make him deal with it.”

“Yeah, well, you also hate him,” Wallace retorts. “This is my stop. As soon as I ace this test, you, me, and Vee, we’re hanging out.”

“Got it.” He walks down the hallway, lost in thoughts of how driven Wallace actually is, how much like Veronica he is in that way, and how he probably never gets the looks from Veronica Logan does - the looks that tell him he isn’t trying hard enough or applying himself well enough. He’s so caught up that he misses Veronica completely.

“Did you know?” He stops in his tracks, watches as his little blonde pixie marches up to him, looking for all the world like she wants to kill him dead.

He gulps nervously. “Did I know what?”

She grabs his hand and pulls him into an empty room, closes the door behind them and crosses her arms. She stays a decent foot away from him.

“I just got back from a nice, informative visit with Mercer. Did you know that on one of those many trips to Mexico he tried to goad you into going on this summer, there was a little mishap and a motel burned to the ground?” She raises her eyebrows at him expectantly, hands firmly placed on her hips. 

“Shit, yes. I knew.” 

“Right, because what’s a few felonies between friends, yeah? Who wouldn’t want to help cover for an asshole who has no problem burning down someone’s livelihood?” She says, pained, like it was her place Mercer burned down, like Mercer planned to burn it down.

“Hey, I didn’t help cover anything up, okay? He just was shaken up from it when we went surfing and spilled. And, newsflash, he didn’t do anything nine guys out of ten wouldn’t have done in the exact same situation,” Logan protests.

“If you believe that, you’re just sad,” his girlfriend shoots back, glaring daggers at him. “And regardless of whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t make him a good person.”

“But it doesn’t mean he’s a rapist. It means that he screwed up. It means that maybe he shouldn’t be bartending while drunk. It means that we keep him away from the matches. But, Veronica, I wouldn’t have asked you to look into this if I thought for one second he was the guy.”

“I don’t have any other leads,” she pleads back. “Lamb found two bottles of GHB when they recovered the cash box, Logan. And I saw clippers in his room. I saw it.”

“Isn’t that, what do you call it, circumstantial? At best? Jesus, Veronica, I’ve had GHB. It doesn’t mean I’m a rapist.”

“I know.” Her voice gets low, gets quiet, and he’s willing to bet they’re both thrown back to the time when him having GHB was enough for her to think he might be just that very thing. She looks defeated, sighs. Turns to face him, her luminous eyes shining. “I’ll look around some more. I’ll figure this out.”

“I know you will,” he reaches for her, and she comes willingly. “I know you’re the best at this. You’re going to show Lamb how it’s done, again.”

She laughs into his shirt, but it’s a broken one. “He didn’t stick around to help, Logan. He didn’t try to see if everyone is okay. He just - he ran.”

It pierces him, this fractured bit of her that is still so very much the old Ronnie, she of crystal clear eyes and shining smile and trusting naivety. It strikes deep into the dark places of his heart, because he’s pretty sure - no, he knows - he would have made the same choice Mercer did. He would have run like Mercer did. He wouldn’t have looked back. Veronica Mars is better than that, has always been better than that. And he doesn’t know how to tell her that he isn’t.

“Mercer says Chip Diller owes him big,” and it takes Logan a second to realize that she’s no longer that Veronica, that his Veronica has locked up this remnant of Ronnie away again and she’s back to being all business. “Dean O’Dell too. Gambling debts. He says the GHB was planted, and he says he thinks these things may be related. But I don’t see the dean framing some schmoe for rape. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, for someone who got you involved in a kidnapping scheme,” Logan retorts. “Oh, wait, that wouldn’t be the first good guy to do that, huh?” Veronica’s scowl makes him back off. “Sorry, I’m still - you’re right. It doesn’t make sense for it to be the dean. But what about Chip? It was his frat that was getting most of the heat before Mercer got arrested.”

Veronica is still scowling at him when she answers. “I already cleared them.”

“But the Lillith House was still gunning for them, right?”

Veronica sighs. “Sure, I think so. I’m going to drop by Sully’s room, see if Meryl has had any luck with her wayward boyfriend. You want to come, or are you heading home?”

It warms him, hearing her say the word ‘home’, having it apply to the two of them, even with this new and strange tension he can feel developing between them. “Yeah, I can tag along. Maybe make adoring eyes at you as you solve the case.”

She smiles tentatively at him. “I can’t promise I’ll be solving it yet, but I’d be happy with the adoring eyes.”

He leans down and kisses her nose. “Anything for you, honey bun.”


	43. Chapter 43

Logan wakes up to Veronica gently slapping his arm and repeating, “Hey, hey, hey.”

“Veronica, what are you doing?” he manages to mumble.

She perches herself on the bed. “So, I was trying to calm Meryl down after we met up with Sully’s study buddy in the cafe - and apparently she wasn’t trying to sleep with him, if her attempts to comfort Meryl are any indication - and I ran into Piz.”

Veronica watches him expectantly, with a cat that ate the canary look on her face, so he knows he’s supposed to be offering something in return here. He just can’t figure out what.

“Yay?” She glares, and he huffs out, “Veronica, it’s the middle of the night. You woke me up. So cut me some slack. What’s going on?”

“Did you know Mercer had a radio show?” He shakes his head, a bit fuzzy on why this means he doesn’t get to sleep. “He does. Saturday nights, 9 to 11. It’s a call in show. He takes requests.”

“Ronnie, I don’t -”

She huffs. “Piz is covering for Mercer, because he’s still doing the Jailhouse Rock. But on the date in question, Mercer was on the campus radio station log. And since the show is by its very nature live and by request, unless he’s perfected the art of being in two places at once -”

“He couldn’t have done it,” Logan finishes, finally catching on. He scoops her waist, and pulls her close. She leans against him and sighs as he kisses her. “You are amazing. Seriously. You’re a superhero.”

“All in a day’s work,” she preens. “I mean, I still have to find Sully, which means I have to collect Meryl from Piz’s room tomorrow and start the search anew. But one case down leaves only one to go.”

Her warmth seeps into him as he keeps her close, but worry naws at him. “Piz’s room?”

“Yeah, she wasn’t going to leave campus. And it took a double shot of cold medicine to put her down. On the plus side, it seems to have put a stop to her congestion.” She takes a hold of one of his hands, examines his fingers. “She’s really worked up about her boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah,” he says. “Wouldn’t you be?”

He watches as she bites at her lip. “I don’t know. I think I’d be too mad to be this upset. I just - I don’t think I could trust that there was any other explanation other than the obvious one.”

There’s a weight to the air that he’s just noticing. It’s what decides for him to press forward. “And what’s the obvious explanation?”

He knows it, of course. The obvious explanation is that the other person has strayed, is cheating, has betrayed their girlfriend. He doesn’t know why he needs so badly to hear it from her, why he has to hear exactly how much she doesn’t believe in him. But Veronica sighs the tiniest sigh and burrows farther into him, still refusing to make eye contact.

“That I can’t -,” she whispers. Pauses. He waits. “That I’m not enough.”

“You can’t think that,” he protests softly. “You can’t think that you’re -”

She sniffs, and works her jaw. “It doesn’t matter, because it isn’t me,” she tells him. “It’s Meryl, and all I want is to be there for her when this turns out badly. She’s a sweet kid.”

The discussion is closed, and he rues the fact that he didn’t seize his chance to tell her, to make her understand that she is everything, that she is his everything. He rues the fact that being his everything is probably as scary to her as not being his everything. 

She cuts through the silence, telling him, “Tomorrow, you should go down to the station and tell Lamb about the station log. That should get your friend released.”

She rolls away, breaking free from his arms, and he feels empty without her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m too keyed up to sleep right now,” she shrugs. “I’m going to go work on my perfect murder paper for a little bit.”

“I don’t see how that’s going to help you get any rest.”

“What, the drudgery of actually planning a crime? It’s a cure for insomnia.” They share a smirk. “No, I think it’s going to be the citations that get me. Twenty pages in MLA style. Shoot me now.”

He grins, rolls over, buries his head in her pillow. “Hey,” he calls out after her, muffled. Lifts his head enough to ask, “What would be the perfect murder?”

She doubles back, kisses his cheek. “Fake suicide. Generic note. Typed.”

“You’re a scary girlfriend,” he mutters, and flops back down.

“Yeah,” she answers dully, “I’ve heard that before.”

He drifts off to sleep pretty quickly after that.

~~~

Dealing with Lamb is always a pleasure and a half, so Logan isn’t exactly surprised when the sheriff doesn’t take his new information on faith.

“You just happened to remember this, huh?” the dick asks, popping his piece of gum obnoxiously, and he has to firmly resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“No,” he responds with faux patience, and grins. “Veronica did some sleuthing. Found it out. Told me. And now I’m telling you. You remember Veronica, right? Cute, about yay tall? Good at figuring out the who done its of the crimes you can’t be bothered to solve properly?”

Lamb smiles back. “Ah, but in this case, she hasn’t brought me anyone who has done it. She just keeps working at getting the suspects out of jail. Interesting.”

“What can I say? She’s just wacky like that. Proving the innocence of the people you’d rather let rot. How dare she?” He mocks. “Now, if you’d like to check on that and then turn the key for my friend back there, I’d be much obliged.”

“Yeah, here’s the thing, hot shot. Your buddy isn’t getting out any time soon.”

“But I’ve just -”

“I’m going to look into this. But your friend back there has followed your sterling example. So, I’m keeping him in lock up for now. If this checks out, you can swing on back tomorrow morning.”

His grin widens to keep from punching Lamb in the mouth, and he nods. “Fine. Can I get back there to see him?”

“Be my guest. It’s good that you and your girlfriend are always coming by. It means you’ll need less time to get acquainted with the place when I arrest you again.”

He doesn’t bother responding to the parting shot, doesn’t want to give Lamb even the hint of a reason to lock him up, so he walks on back to see Mercer hanging on the bars.

“Good news,” he greets. “Veronica has you in the free and clear. Once Lamb is done doing his job, we’ll be able to get you out of here tomorrow morning.”

Mercer groans. “Dude, you have no idea how glad I am to hear that. So, your girlfriend really managed to do it?”

He nods, puffing up with pride in his girl. “I told you, she’s a super sleuth. She’s the best at this sort of thing.”

Mercer hangs a bit on the bars, just lolls there, and asks, “Is that why you’re okay with the constant surveillance? Because, as cool as this is, I don’t think I could handle it.”

“What did I say about pissing Lamb off, by the way?” Logan redirects, in an effort to not discuss his girlfriend’s strange proclivities. “Dude, I warned you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answers. “I just - that guy’s a dick.”

“Yeah, he is.” Logan shakes his head. “Listen, I was just popping in to give Lamb the newest evidence of your innocence. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good, man,” he agrees. “Hey, breakfast? My treat. You know, for you loaning out your girlfriend like that.”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll catch you later. Try not to piss off Lamb any more, alright? I don’t want to have to come here every day waiting for you to get out.”

“Oh, no worries. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be on the straight and not funny from here on out.” Flashes Logan the peace sign. “Make love, not war, with your resident sheriff.”

“That’s not an image I needed in my head. Ever,” Logan retorts, leaving Mercer behind, calling Veronica on his way out. “Veronica, it’s me. Give me a buzz.”

~~~

It’s amazing, what the news that one of your friends is definitely not a rapist can do for your spirits, Logan reflects as he heads to the beach for a few hours with Dick. It’s a load off when the proof finally comes in. Being out on the water is cleansing, washing away the fear and the worry of the past few days, washing away the dread that surfaces whenever Veronica falls into her nihilistic worries about relationships.

He calls her occasionally, between waves. When she doesn’t answer, when she doesn’t get back to him, his worry spikes. 

“Veronica, where are you? Give me a call.”

Dick trudges up, kicks his calf. “Dude, are you going to stand there moping over your phone or are you going to get back in the water, ride a few more waves?”

“I can’t get a hold of Veronica,” he explains, tapping his phone against his hand.

Dick rolls his eyes. “She’s probably doing some very important sleuthing or whatever. Just, could you stop obsessing over rich guy kryponite for two seconds and have some fun?”

“Yeah, I just - she usually answers. Or calls me back.”

“Look, dude, didn’t you say she was a little pissed at you over some stupid thing? Maybe she’s just, you know, cooling off.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” He doesn’t move to put his phone back. Dick sighs.

“We’re done for the day, aren’t we?”

“Yup. I’m going to hit the house, get changed, and then try and track her down. You coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Dick answers. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. You drove us here.”

Dick mopes the whole way back, and it’s almost endearing how much of a five year old he turns into. A drunk five year old, but still a five year old.

“Dude, we’ll hit the waves again tomorrow,” he laughs. “I swear. Mercer’ll come with us, and it’ll be breakfast; booze; and sun, sand, and surf.”

“Sure,” the blond answers. “Sounds great. I just - I don’t want to think about anything today.” Before Logan can ask why, he continues. “Are you heading back to campus?”

“Yeah. It’s on the first leg of my ‘find my girlfriend’ scavenger hunt.”

“Mind dropping me at the Pi Sig house? I feel like drinking till I puke my guts out.”

“Sure thing.”

Dick is quiet on the ride over, which is a rare enough thing for him that Logan gives him more than a passing glance. 

“You okay, dude?”

“Yeah,” Dick answers. “Just, sometimes it all hits me, you know? Like, I’m basically an orphan. It’s just you and me in the world, now that the Beav’s checked out.” He shakes his head, mop of hair flopping every which way. “I gotta get out of my head.”

“I - I’m sorry, man.” He has nothing else to say. 

His friend shrugs. “Yeah, well. At least I didn’t have to see him die. That’s a privilege you get to carry to your grave.”

Logan swallows, tries not to think about how it didn’t hurt when Beaver jumped. How in the moment it was just shock. And later, it felt a lot like justice. At least the only justice Veronica was guaranteed. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, as he pulls into an empty space. “Lucky me.”

“See ya on the flip side,” Dick says, grabbing a six pack from the back before he shuts the door.

He slogs across campus, weighted down by a recalcitrant and missing Veronica, and a moody and quiet Dick. 

Piz and Wallace’s dorm is his first stop, and he hopes beyond hope that Wallace has returned from his motel room so he doesn’t have to deal with Piz alone - at at all. It doesn’t seem to be, though, because Piz answers the door, and if his greeting of, “Logan” is any indication, is about as happy to see him as he is to see Piz.

“Hey, I’m, uh, I’m looking for Veronica.”

Piz smirks. “Ah, yeah. She was around earlier but I haven’t - “

A wry smile creeps up across his face. “Any chance she’s with Wallace?”

“He’s out of town, actually. At a motel, studying.”

“Yeah,” he can’t help but respond. “I heard about that. Thought you were supposed to be there too.”

“Yeah, well, I came back early. And good thing I did. Because, you know, Meryl. Veronica.” Piz holds out his hands like he’s weighing something, and smiles a little bit. Logan wants to punch him so much more than he wanted to punch Lamb.

“Right, thanks for that. If you see her, ask her to call me?”

Piz nods, and just watches as Logan turns to go, leaving Logan almost positive that there’s no way in hell Veronica would ever get that message.

“Just from Beaverton, my ass,” he grumbles as he leaves the dorm. “Guy’s got a crush, and she can’t see it. Already asked her out on a date, brings her cases, makes excuses to spend time with her. All the evidence in the world, but no. Some PI she is. What’s he going to have to do, kiss her?”

He stops, breathes out, tries to calm down. “Alright Logan. Your next step - is to stop talking to yourself. After that, check out the dining hall. And then home. Maybe she just went home. And you’re still talking to yourself. Great.”

There’s something about Veronica Mars that makes him come apart at the seams, he figures. Something that defuses anything about him that could be considered remotely cool, something - He stops. Hears car alarm going off in the distance, in the parking garage.

It’s not anything, he tells himself as he heads toward the noise. It doesn’t have anything to do with Veronica. Even though he can see the flashing lights on a Saturn.

Nothing slows down, like it’s supposed to. Like it does in movies and television shows. Like it’s described in books. Every part of him just tightens, doing its best to freeze him in place. He runs. 

Not Veronica, not Veronica, not Veronica, he chants in his head. Veronica is fine. Veronica is fine. He’s going to scare the shit out of someone else who has a Saturn. Someone who doesn’t understand car alarms.

It shuts off, and he starts breathing again, slows down a little bit. But he doesn’t hear a car door, doesn’t hear a car start. He starts jogging.

“Veronica!” He calls out to her, willing her to answer. Willing her to be alright. He can picture her, hands on her hips, lips tight. _“Did you really think I was in trouble, Logan? Just because I dropped my -”_

And the Veronica of his imagination dissipates, the awake and sassy one, as he finds his Veronica, slumped on the pavement. Left there, by god knows who. Fumbles over toward her, scoops her up, turns her over. 

“Hey, hey, come here.”

And softly, miraculously, if he were the type to believe in miracles, she answers him with a pitiful, “Take me home”.

It hurts to breathe, because her eyes won’t open and she is just a rag doll as he lifts her up. Sees the chunk of her hair laying on the pavement, and can’t believe it. Discovers the bald patch he didn’t want to find, sees the blood trickle down he wants to forget. Veronica.

He thinks her name over and over, like a silent prayer, as he examines her more carefully.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Hey.”

She doesn’t respond. 

~~~

Sitting in the hospital, he can’t help but thank the Veronica of before they moved in together who made sure they updated their emergency contact information and who insisted they fill out next of kin cards. He can’t help but rail against the current Veronica who has made the cards a necessity. Or the nurse who didn’t want to accept the card, until he pulled his rich jackass card and threatened to sue the hospital into the ground.

“Logan Echolls?”

“He breathes in, willing himself to be calm, and stands up. “Yeah? How is she?”

“Miss Mars should be fine,” the doctor tells him. He tries to focus on the guy’s name tag, but the words just slide right off his brain. “We’ve given her some medication to counteract the effects of the drug.”

Logan nods along, face drawn, heart still pounding. “Okay. Okay. How long does she have to stay here? I mean, she’s not wild about hospitals.”

“You can take her home right now, as long as you get some more of the medicine into her system tonight.”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I can do that.”

“Then let me lead you back to your patient.”

He turns the corner to the room, and lets out the slightest of gasps. She’s laying in the bed, out of it, and she looks so small and so fragile he desperately rifles through any and all plans to keep her safe. But he knows her, and she would break out of any cage just to prove she could.

“Can she walk?”

“We’re going to put her in a wheelchair,” the doctor, whose name he still hasn’t committed to memory, tells him. “She’s going to be groggy for a little while. We’re not sure how big a dose she was given, but given her weight, any was probably enough to create an effect.”

“Okay. So, give her the medicine, and, um, is there any follow up? Anything I should look out for?”

“It’s unlikely she’ll experience any of the side effects beyond what you see here, because we have given her medication and you got her in right away. But if she starts vomiting, if you can’t wake her up, call us.”

“Yeah,” he says, gripping the medicine. “Thanks.”

“Your girlfriend should be fine, son.” He looks at the doctor, and nods. 

“Yeah. Thanks,” he repeats. “I just, I need to get her home.”

“Of course.”

He watches her get loaded into her wheelchair. Watches as she slowly opens her eyes and closes them again. Opens the passenger door for the orderlies so they can load her in. And drives the slowest he has ever driven in his life back to the house. 

His head is pounding, and he has never been happier that Dick is a full blown alcoholic than he is now, because he can’t fathom dealing with this and having Dick there at the same time. But he can’t do this alone, either. He calls Mac first, but it rolls to voicemail. Doesn’t even bother dialing Wallace, because his phone has been off all weekend. Which leaves one person on his list.

“Hey, it’s, it’s Logan,” he says when Weevil picks up. “Do you think you could swing by the house? I’m, I’m kind of dealing with a situation with Veronica right now.”

Weevil blusters a bit, and Logan doesn’t listen. “Hey, Paco, your friend got dosed tonight with some GHB, so I’d appreciate it if you could come over. And help me.”

“What did you say?” Weevil growls.

“I said get your ass over here. I’ll try to give you the run down then. Door’s open.”

Getting her out of the car proves more difficult than he would imagine, because every little jostle makes his head hurt a little more, makes him worry for her a little more. For once, though, he’s grateful for Dick’s inability to lock a door, because getting Veronica inside is made that much easier.

“Logan?” she groans out.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here. We’re home.” He kisses her head as he slides them onto the couch. “We’re home.”

“I think someone slipped me something.”

If it weren’t for the fact that it were true, Veronica’s groggy and hours late assessment would have him laughing. Instead, he finds himself tearing up. “Yeah. Yeah, someone did.” Scoops her up and cradles her head under his. “God, Veronica. I could just kill you, you scare me so much.”

He rests there, lets the tension of the day slowly dissolve, hammered into submission by Veronica’s constant, steady heartbeat. Gently pets her head over and over again.

He’s almost sane again when Weevil comes crashing through the door. He jumps, and even Veronica reacts - slowly and after the fact, but still.

“Where is she?” Weevil bursts out. “And who did it?”

“Hey, calm down. She’s right here. And I don’t know.” Presses another kiss to her head. “I found her. It’s the campus rapist, but - I don’t know who it is.” Smooths her hair a bit again. “And neither does she.”

“So you called me here to, what, pow wow over how to get this guy?”

“No, actually,” he answers, smirking faintly at the ex gang leader. “I called you to be a nurse maid.”

It’s important to take the small pleasures in life, Logan decides, and Weevil sputtering in disbelief at being summoned for his bedside manner is definitely one of them.

“Relax. I just need some help giving her the rest of her medicine, that’s all.”

Weevil frowns at him. “And the rest of the scooby gang, they’re on vaca?”

“Pretty much, actually. You and me are the troops tonight, Weevs. So buckle up. And get me a spoon, would you?”

When he comes back from the kitchen, Veronica cracks an eye open. “Weevil?”

“Hey, Vee,” the guy responds, and Logan marvels at how soft he becomes around his girlfriend. “You gave your boy here a scare.”

“Didn’t mean to,” she tells them, and goes to curl back into him. “Sleepy.”

“Too bad, Vee,” Weevil tells her as he pours the medicine. “Cuz we gotta get some more of this crap in you. Doctor’s orders, right Echolls?”

“Yeah,” he answers, taking the spoon. “Drink up.”

“Ugh,” she groans after she swallows. “That’s nasty.”

“Yeah, well, cowboy up, Mars. There’s a couple more doses coming your way.”

Between the two of them, they get enough of the meds in her that Logan starts resting easy. 

“You need anything else?” Weevil asks, and Logan shakes his head. “Alright, well, I gotta be getting home. I’ve got Ophelia coming in the morning, so, I need to be there. Otherwise, I’d be crashing here to make sure Vee’s better. But -”

“I get it,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Weevil looks tired, worn, and glances at the couch. “Keep me updated, okay? Good, bad, nothing. I just need to be in the know.”

“Yeah. I will.”

Weevil nods at him, and ambles to the door as Dick comes in. Weevil gives the other guy a half glare, and continues on.

“Dude,” Dick slurs, “what are you doing with that guy?”

“Thought you were staying at the Pi Sig house tonight.”

“Nah, I figured I’d come on home. Got a ride, and I’m feeling fine.” Logan knows the moment Dick figures out something’s up, when he glances down. “What’s up with Ronnie?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just go to bed, Dick,” he commands the other guy as he gently slides Veronica off his lap.

“Wow, Logan, Mercer was right about you. Treating me like your kid. Hey, did Mommy have a bit too much to drink?”

Dick gets slammed into the wall for that comment, and Logan battles back the urge to do worse. “Go to bed, Dick.”

“Alright, alright. I was just kidding. We still doing breakfast with Mercer tomorrow?”

Logan groans. “I don’t know. No. You can pick him up.”

“Alrighty then. If I’m not still drunk tomorrow, I’ll pick up the lost soul from the clink.” Dick jauntily waves, and stumbles up the stairs. Logan groans.

“What made me think letting him live here was a good idea?”

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Veronica forces out. “Can we go to bed?”

He laughs. “Yeah. Yeah. We can do that. We can definitely do that.”


	44. Chapter 44

“Dude,” Dick exclaims as he bursts into the bedroom, “your girlfriend has gone nuts.”

“Dick?” Logan croaks out groggily. “What are you doing in here? Ronica’s going to kill you.” Pats around for said girlfriend.

“She’s not in here,” Dick tells him. “She’s out there. She’s tearing the place apart.”

“She’s what?” Logan is up and out of bed at that. He grabs the first shirt he comes to, pulls it on. “What are you talking about?”

“Ronnie. I came downstairs this morning, and the entire place looks like your house did after they arrested your dad. She even took apart the coffee maker. What’d that thing ever do to her?” He looks genuinely saddened by Mr. Coffee’s death.

“I’ll buy a new one,” Logan tells him as he heads for the stairs.

He doesn’t know what he’s anticipating, but what he sees is not it. Dick’s description seems like an understatement. The furniture has been moved, upturned, the covers are off the cushions, and the cushions are in a pile. He finds her in the center of his games, cleaning them with the canned air. “Ronica, it’s like 6 in the morning.”

“This house is disgusting,” she tells him distractedly. 

He rubs his face. “Okay, well, we’ll hire a maid.”

“Maids don’t do anything about dust mites.” She throws down a cartridge. He flinches, hoping it’s not one he really likes. He shares a glance with Dick, who’s taking in the scene before him wide-eyed. 

“And dust mites are evil?” He starts inching toward her.

She picks up his PS, inspects it briefly, and then takes a cloth to the outside. “They are everywhere. You can’t see them, but they’re there.”

He hopes to everything holy the expression on his face is nothing like the one on Dick’s, because Dick’s is something you would see in a particularly volatile mental ward. “Yeah, I know. But I didn’t know they were that big of a problem.”

She shudders. “It’s so gross.”

He’s close enough now to touch her, and he gingerly does. “Right. Well, let’s get you showered, and then we can clean together.”

She looks at him, and he gets the faint impression she doesn’t see him at all. “What?”

“We’ll clean the house together. After.”

“No,” she protests. “I’m supposed to hang out with Wallace today.” 

“I thought Wallace was in a hotel room, studying his brains out.”

“Yeah, but his test is today. And we were going to go out after and do the big celebratory thing.”

And that settles it.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up,” he tells her. 

“But, the house -”

“Dick’ll take over cleaning duty,” Logan tells her smoothly. Dick lets out a snort of disbelief. “Won’t you, Dick?”

“Sure, buddy. I’ll be glad to.” Logan nods and guides Veronica to the stairs. Dick follows. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not actually going to do that, right?”

“Clean the house, Dick,” Logan whispers. “Or else Ronica is going to be upset.”

There aren’t a lot of instances when he truly appreciates Dick’s somewhat befuddling and overwhelming fear of Veronica. But watching him scamper off to find cleaning supplies is one of those times.

“So,” he says more as a way of making conversation than because he can’t tell, “You feeling better today than you were yesterday?”

“Yeah. I am. And I’m going to find that asshole who drugged me, and I’m going to make him pay.”

When he was little, a nanny of his liked Doctor Who. It helped get him into fantasy - more than a little bit because when he watched, his father would rant and rave about poor production values, and anything that made his father froth at the mouth had to be worthwhile. The ringing of the Tardis’ cloister bell is the closest thing he can come up with for the noise pounding inside his skull.

“Yeah, we’re going to have a serious talk.”

Veronica glares at him. “I don’t have time to talk.”

“Yes, you do. Because I’m going to make this quick. I want you to stay away from the rape case, okay? Just let it go. It’s clear now that the rapist knows who you are and what you’re doing, so to keep me from having another weekend like this one where I find you drugged out of your mind on Saturday and out of it all day Sunday, you need to back off, and stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He tells her seriously, without the hint of joking, just begging her to take this to heart and to not break his.

She doesn’t, and he can feel his chest caving in. “My nose kind of belongs whereever I decide to put it.”

He breathes harder, in and out, trying to keep the bells from drowning out the rest of his thoughts. Trying to keep the black spots that keep threatening the rest of his vision away. 

“I’m worried about you, okay? I want you to stop, now. I’m not kidding.” He’s not above using his superior height to loom over her, and she’s not above climbing a few steps to put them on equal footing. It’s that part he loves and hates about her. Any other girl would be running away, worried about a history of violence, not willing to go toe to toe with him for nine rounds. Of course, any other girl would be running away from a rapist too.

“Kind of a one-eighty, don’t you think? Can we rewind a little bit? Cue it up to when you were asking me to exonerate your buddy Mercer.” Her eyes bore into him, confirming that she won’t be backing down.

“That was before you were attacked! Before I had to drag your ass to the hospital, worried out of my mind! Why can’t you for once just leave things alone?”

“Now you’re starting to piss me off, Logan.” 

“Frankly, Veronica, so fucking what? You’re not invincible, and you’re not always right!”

“ **I KNOW THAT**!” she screams back, and Logan takes a step back at her intensity. “Do you think I enjoy being attacked? Do you think I like getting stalked by some sicko with a vendetta? NO! But no one else is going to be working to get him off the streets. And newsflash, buddy boy - I’m already in his crosshairs. Stopping now will do nothing. And if by some miracle of miracles he stops focusing on me, then how am I supposed to feel when the next girl gets attacked? Just wipe my hands clean of it? I can’t do that. I can’t just look the other way.” She quiets, and her face crumbles before him. It hurts more than almost everything else. “And I can’t believe you’d ask me to.”

She pulls back too, and they stand there, huffing at each other for a few seconds. 

“Let me hire someone then,” he offers. “Someone to protect you.”

“No.” She grimaces. “Logan, no.”

His muscles tighten, and he swings his arms back and forth for a second, just to work off some of the energy. “I changed my mind. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. I’m hiring someone to protect you.”

“You… you have no right to do that,” she tells him weakly.

He nods. “Probably not. You’re probably right. Okay? But I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” She sounds lost, and he sighs.

“Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s right, or if it’s fair. I don’t care if you’re angry. I just - I can’t live in the fear that a whacked out rapist is following you. The only thing I care about is that you’re safe. And if you tell me to piss off when I ask you to stop actively putting yourself in danger, then this is what I have.” He gestures at her. “You’re all I have, Veronica. And I’m not going to just sit here and wait for you to be taken away from me.”

He watches her tear up, and look down. Watches her breathe in and out. “That’s all sweet and great,” she tells him softly, leaning against the handrail, “but it doesn’t really work that way. It’s not like this is some new facet of my personality. You know who I am. You know what I do.”

“And?” he answers, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall on the opposite side.

“And…” She closes her eyes, and he just wants this moment to be over, because he is desperately afraid of what comes next. “It isn’t going to change, Logan. I can’t change that about myself. I won’t. Not for anyone, even you. And if you can’t accept that, then I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Looking down, he nods. “Yeah. You know who I am. And you’re constantly expecting me to change. And even now, when you’re thinking, ‘crap, he’s got a point’, you still think you’re ultimately right.” Watches her breathe out, and nod. “I love you, Veronica. I love you.” The sickening, sinking feeling comes back, the fear floods his system. And he needs to know. “But do you love me?”

Veronica looks up at him, eyes shining, face drawn. She looks like this moment is killing her, and Logan feels it too. He doesn’t know what to do if she doesn’t. “Yeah. I do.”

She says it softly, haltingly. But he believes her. And the pain recedes again, for the time being. “Okay. So, we try and take it a little easier on each other?”

“Yeah,” she answers, pushing off of the railing and slowly sliding back into his arms. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He breathes in her hair, her skin, and wants to spend the next week in this spot, on these stairs, with her in his arms. “So, we’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathes into his shirt. “We’re okay.”

It doesn’t feel like they are. And he presses because of it. “I’m still hiring someone.”

“Logan -”

He tightens his hold on her. “Veronica, no matter what you say, I’m going to do it. You could break up with me, you can tell me you hate me. It doesn’t change this. I need you to be safe. As safe as I can make you. Because it’ll kill me if you’re not. Do you understand that?”

She pulls away from him, and gazes up into his eyes for what feels like an eternity. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but she looks worn out and searching. Finally, she tells him, “Yeah. I understand you perfectly.”

~~~

He goes to Charlie. They meet at a little bistro, both ignoring the paparazzo clearly visible across the street, and sit silently as Logan tries to approach the issue.

“It’s something to do with Veronica, right?” Charlie asks. Because, of course it has to do with Veronica. He nods. “Are we going to talk about it, or just sit here and stare at each other? Because either way works for me, as long as you’re picking up the check.”

Logan gives him an obligatory smirk. “She’s looking into something. Getting too deep. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t get her to stop.”

Charlie looks uncomfortable, like girlfriends who are investigators and the problems therein isn’t something he’s usually confronted with. Logan thinks that it’s a good thing he didn’t teach at Neptune. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” Logan looks down. “So, she’s freaking out, and I’m freaking out, and then we yell at each other. Which, let’s be honest, isn’t something that never happens. But it’s especially bad this time around. It feels like I’m walking on increasingly thinning ice, you know? And then, today, this morning, she took apart the house. I mean, literally. My stereo system was in pieces. She was using canned air to clean out gaming systems I haven’t touched in years. And I’m not even sure if she came to bed last night.”

Charlie shifts in his seat, and takes a big swig of his drink. “Okay. Well, what is this case?”

“You hear about the Hearst rapist?” Charlie nods. “That’s it.” His half-brother stares at him, wide eyed and slack-jawed. Logan takes a moment to think that it’s not a good look for him. “It wasn’t too bad at first. I mean, I wasn’t thrilled. But I could deal. And then she gets drugged and jumped, and after taking a day to rest and recuperate, she just continues to barrel onward. And I’m just so mad at her I could kill her.”

Charlie goes from looking shocked to looking stricken, and Logan realizes not for the first time how certain simple turns of phrase take on a whole new meaning when your father was a murdering son of a bitch. 

“Okay.” He swallows. “Was she - was she -” He stops. 

Logan takes care of it for him. “No, she wasn’t. I got to her before he could do anything. He buzzed one bit of her head, but she’s hiding it.”

Relief blooms across Charlie’s face. Logan’s not sure if it’s because no one wants to hear about someone they know getting raped, or if it’s the fact that Logan’s problem is hard enough to tackle without extraneous trauma added to it. “Well, why is she so attached to this case?”

“It’s not this case,” Logan tells him. “She’s just like this. It’s every case. She can’t ever just let it go.”

“But she was cleaning the house. Does she do that for every case?”

It’s Logan’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “No.”

“Then it stands to reason there’s something about this case that is particularly bothersome to her. Do you have any idea what that could be?”

Logan opens his mouth, closes it again. He can’t begin to imagine telling Charlie that no, Veronica wasn’t raped this time, but she was a while back. He can’t imagine spilling her secrets across the table for his brother’s consumption. He thinks about the times in the dark, when she talks about how sometimes everything is just so dirty and she can’t stand to touch any of it. He knows intimately why this case is getting under skin. He can feel his mouth twist into what could be generously called a frown. “I can’t tell you.”

“So, you don’t know?” Charlie is staring sympathetically.

Logan feels himself tightening up. “No, I know. I just - I can’t tell you. It’s Veronica. And I can’t tell you why.”

Charlie’s surprised, Logan can tell. “Oh, Okay. So...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Logan assures him. “I shouldn’t have come to you about this anyway. It wasn’t fair.”

Charlie frowns, reaches out and pats his arm. “Logan, you can come to me with anything. We’re trying to build a relationship here.”

“Yeah.” Logan feels the old grin he hid behind stretch across his face. “But Rome wasn’t built in a day.” It takes some concerted effort, but he lets it fall away. He hastens to explain, “It’s not you. I just shouldn’t talk about these things with someone who knows her. It’s not fair to her.”

“So, what do we do now?”

Logan breathes out, hard. “Well, I’m hungry. How about we eat?”

Charlie grins. “That sounds great.”

“How’s school going?” 

“Really well, actually. I got a good crop of kids this year. Much better than last year’s losers.” His mouth quirks up, like he made a joke, so Logan laughs. Teacher humor. Even when he’s out of high school, he still doesn’t get it. It feels good, though, as Charlie chatters on about his students and the projects he’s assigning, to focus on something outside of his tiny sphere of a life. Out in the world, people are living and breathing and working, without worrying over girlfriends who are in the crosshairs of repeat rapists. Sometimes, he forgets that such a type of world exists. It’s nice to be reminded.

~~~

If he can’t talk to Charlie because he knows Veronica, talking to someone who doesn’t know Veronica about Veronica may be the thing that helps. That thinking is what finds him sitting outside of a campus counselor’s office, trying desperately to not give into the cliche and twiddle his thumbs.

“Logan Echolls?” 

“Here,” he calls out, and immediately feels like an idiot for doing so.

The guy smiles warmly at him. “I’m Jacob. Let’s go into the room and we can talk about what’s troubling you.”

Logan nods, and follows him back, swallowing nervously. He’s just waiting for Veronica to be tailing him, and then morosely watching as he splits her open and shows her scars to the world.

They both sit. Jacob clears his throat. Logan stares straight ahead. It’s very much like when he tried to talk to Charlie, actually.

“So,” the guy starts. “What brings you here today?”

“My girlfriend,” Logan says, and stops.

“Are you having problems?”

“Yeah.” He stops again, and considers why he thought this was a good idea in the first place. Jacob looks at him leadingly.

“What are these problems?”

“You know the Hearst Rapist? I think it’s been bringing some stuff back up.”

The guy stares at him. “What kind of stuff are we talking about?”

Logan takes a deep breath, lets it out. “She was raped, and I think this stuff is bringing it all back for her, but she’s very focused on it. And when I ask her to step back, she acts like I’m trying to kill her puppy.”

“Oh!” Jacob didn’t see this coming. Logan doesn’t think anyone really does. “Was she one of the victims? Is that why she can’t let it go?”

“It wasn’t here,” Logan tells him. “It was when we were in high school.”

“Well,” the man’s blandly sympathetic face intones, “she may still be able to get justice. The statute of -”

“The guy’s dead,” Logan cuts him off. “There’s not going to be a police report.”

“Oh.” He looks shocked. “Well, did she feel any closure -”

Logan sees Beaver jump like it’s happening in front of him again. Hears the splat against the concrete he didn’t hear that night. Imagines his broken body at the foot of the Grand. Feels Veronica clinging to him in anguish. “No. She didn’t.”

Jacob looks like this is far outside his usual issues, and Logan wonders if his and Veronica’s purpose in life is to break other people, is to point to their own fucked up lives and ask if they really think they have it so bad. “You say she’s been affected deeply by the incidents on campus?”

Logan puffs out some air. “Yeah. And I need to be able to help her, and I don’t know how.”

Jacob nods, has a concerned face on. “The most you can do is be there for her, help her through this time by letting her know that you’re available and open to her needs.”

“I don’t want to be there for her,” Logan argues. “I want her to stop putting herself at risk because she gets so far into this crap that she can’t see how she’s killing everyone around her with worry.”

Jacob nods. “So, she’s turned to drugs?”

Logan fights back the growl that is trying to claw its way out. “The next time I decide to get therapy, it’s going to be with a guy who has an office, a wall full of diplomas. Not a campus counselor.”

Jacob looks offended at that, but Logan just gets up, walks out.

~~~

He comes home from the truly unhelpful counseling session to find Dick standing in the kitchen. 

“Dude,” he throws out, “what’s up with Ronnie?”

“Nothing, Dick,” he says absently. “Leave it alone.”

Dick shakes his head. “It’s not nothing, man. I had a good five sessions of therapy. I know an epic freak out when I see one.”

Logan shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You made me clean the house, Logan. I’m worried that it may happen again.”

Logan sighs, rolls his shoulders. “Dude, seriously, she’s dealing with it, okay? Just don’t pester her or get in her face.”

Dick goes still, looks at him like he knows something Logan might not. It’s an unusual look for Dick, so Logan takes immediate notice. “She’s taking these rape things pretty hard, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” he starts slowly. “It’s the sort of thing that gets her dander up.”

Dick shifts, begins spinning the can of beer he has sitting on the counter. “Do you - do you think it happened to her?”

There’s something in the way he asks the question that makes the world stop. Logan feels like all of his internal organs are in his throat. “Why?”

“Just, you know, wondering.”

“Dick,” he barks out. “What did you do?”

Dick looks at him with wide eyes. “Look, dude, I swear, I didn’t know. It was the Beav, right?” Doesn’t wait for the confirmation, just plows ahead. “But, Sean and me, we took her. Put her in a bedroom, and told Beav to go to town.”

The edges of Logan’s vision fray. Dick takes a step back. “I didn’t think he’d do it! It was just another way to fuck with him, I swear.”

“Get out.” Logan says it dark and deep, and wills himself to not go over to Dick and kill him where he stands.

Dick shudders like Logan has hit him anyway. Logan sees it rippling through his rage. “Dude, we were sixteen. Ronnie was on the outs. I’m sorry -”

“Get. Out.”

Dick grabs the sandwich he’s made, and the beer off the counter, and walks sorrowfully toward the door. “Let me know, okay, when it’s good to come back.”

Logan wants to throw the heaviest piece of furniture at him as he closes the door behind him.

He starts drinking instead.

~~~

Veronica comes home, manic and on edge in a way he can’t fathom living through, and greets him before she sees him with a sing song, “Honey! I’m home!” 

He drunkenly wonders at the way she seemingly has forgotten their fight from the morning, the first fight in a long time that made him think it was going to be their last, the fight that made her just give up on him and walk out. She didn’t, though. She stayed. He thinks about calling off the hounds in the morning, giving a little the way she gave a lot. 

She stops cold when she finds him with a rocks glass full of scotch. “Hard day?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Dick?”

She looks at him in askance. “Why didn’t ever I tell you what about Dick?”

Logan shifts, so he can see her more clearly. “Shelly Pomeroy. Sophomore year. Dick and Sean. And the Beav.” He watches her stiffen.

“I didn’t -”

“You knew,” he tells her calmly. “You had to know. You ferreted every last detail about that night out of everyone who was there, willing or not. I’m betting you got it from Dick or Beaver direct. So, why didn’t you tell me?”

Her face is lined with sorrow. “I didn’t because.” She stops. She breathes in. “In the beginning, it was just Duncan, and it wasn’t great but it wasn’t bad, exactly, either. I wouldn’t let it be bad. So, they were just two pieces of a night gone wrong, and they were asses, but so was everyone else. And later, it was because I don’t like to think about it.”

“You let me move him in here,” Logan gasps out, and it occurs to him that he’s the one crying as she stands tall. “You let me bring him into our lives so deep and so fast, and you didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, Logan.” Veronica’s voice breaks, and she crosses over to him. He feels her arms go around him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he snots out into the crook of her arm. “I didn’t think. I didn’t even begin to wonder why your nightmares got so much worse after he was here. I just assumed -”

“Hey,” she cuts in sharply. “I don’t know why they got worse. But I do know that Dick Casablancas can’t hurt me. He’s nothing, okay? He’s just an annoyance.”

“But -” Logan can’t breathe.

“No,” she pulls back, wipes the streaks off his face. “No buts. He didn’t do it, Logan. He wasn’t the bad guy. The bad guy’s dead. End of story.”

It’s not, he wants to tell her. It’s not the end of the story, because she cries out half the nights now in terror. It’s not, because they’re still living through the repercussions. It’s not, because he didn’t do his job in protecting her, and he lives with the fear he’ll be too late this time too. Instead, he acknowledges, “He wasn’t the bad guy. But he was a bad guy.”

Veronica smiles, but there’s nothing behind it but weariness. “Who among us hasn’t been?”

Logan flinches, thinking of body shots and slipping unknowing persons drugs. Of taunts that cut deep and of punctured tires and scratched paint jobs. He thinks about how he made this girl into a social pariah, simply because it was easier to put all the negative energy he felt about himself, about Lilly, about everything in his life, onto her than it was to just deal with it outright. How he felt so righteous in doing it, too.

“I was,” he tells her dully. “I was the bad guy.”

“No,” she says again. “You were an asshole. You were a sixteen year old asshole. And I tried to think of you as the villain, as the evil doer. But you weren’t. You made my life hell, but yours was already there. So, bygones.”

He remembers the last time she told him that. It’s seared into his memory, this girl telling him she’d been raped and then sarcastically spitting that word out at him before sliding back into the darkness to handle it in the best way she knew how. Their relationship now is so far from what they were doing then, it’s laughable that this same word connects the two events. He gives her a shaky smile. “Alright. Bygones. It’s still there, though, right? It still affects us.”

Veronica snuggles down into him. “Yeah, it is. And yeah, it does. I try not to let it, but that year was pretty intense, you know? So, it does still color things. But, I’m trying to let it go.” She shifts further around him. He feels enveloped by her. It’s not a sensation he gets to revel in often, so he presses himself further in. “We can do this. We can have it be something that happened, and that’s it.”

He purses his lips, can feel the bile working its way up the back of his throat. He doesn’t let it get any further than that. “It’s not something that happened. It’s something I did to you.”

“Yeah?” She presses a kiss to his cheek. “You know what? Not a one of them had to follow your lead. And I’m choosing to see it as something that was a product of intense stress and grief.”

He turns further into her, ducks his head down so that all he can smell is her. “I don’t want to be my father.”

“You’re not.” She straightens, and the world comes rushing back toward him. “You aren’t him, Logan.”

“But it’s there,” he tells her. “It’s in there. It’s my genes, Veronica.” 

It’s more than in his genes. It’s in his actions. It lets itself known when he lashes out, when he hurts people in the best ways, in the ways he knows will cause the most damage. It’s in the way he doesn’t care, even when he does.

She looks at him, full of acceptance and love. “If you ever even come close, Logan, I’m telling you now, I’ll tase you so fast you will be humming for days.”

He laughs. He has to. It’s the exact wrong thing to say, and it’s the exact right thing to say to him. “You do that.”

“Oh,” she tells him archly, “I will.” She slips off of his lap. “Come on, you. Let’s get to bed.”

He lets her drag him up, lets her dump the rest of his glass into the sink, lets her bully him into brushing his teeth, and lets her push him toward the covers. He thinks about Dick, about the careless crap they all did to each other. How horribly they all treated each other, under the guise of friendship or fun or just plain outrageousness. For once, she’s sleeping soundly, and he’s awake and restless. Figures. 

It hurts to think. It hurts to realize what he did to Veronica. He told her once he was responsible. He thought it was only slipping the drugs to Duncan. But what Dick said, his parting shot - Ronnie wasn’t one of them. Ronnie wasn’t one of them, so it was okay to fuck with her. To fuck her. He wants to vomit. To get all the toxicity out of himself, to make himself whole. To make himself better. He wants to know how she can stand to touch him. How she can stand to look at him. It just strengthens the fear that Keith’s not being there is what keeps her with him.


	45. Chapter 45

“Hey, you,” Veronica says sweetly as she slips into his arms. He gives her a small grin and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “I have something important to tell you.”

“Yeah?” he answers as they begin to walk away from her Criminology class. “What’s up?”

She waits until they’re further down the hall, and then swings herself around, grabbing both of his hands and stops. His grin widens as she looks up at him with faux solemnness. “There has been a surprising lack of bald, mountain men type men following me around today. I think they may have gotten lost.”

“Yeah, well, I kind of let him go,” he tells her, and it’s her turn to stare at him like he’s something special. He preens a bit under the glow.

“You - you what? Let him go?”

“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly, shrugging her bag off of her shoulder and onto his own before tucking her back in under his arm, feels her arm circle his waist in return. “I told him his work was done.”

“What about mad rapists? What about my safety?” she asks, pulling on her sunglasses as they walk outside.

He smirks. “Are you saying you want him back? Because I can -”

“No,” she breaks in. “I’m just - surprised, is all. I thought I’d have a protective detail the rest of my natural born life.”

He presses another kiss to her head, he can’t help it. “Well, you dealt with it admirably for a week. And nothing else has happened, and you’ve made it clear that you don’t really enjoy the protective detail. So, I’m giving it up.”

She stops him again on the steps, grins up at him and then presses a deep kiss onto his lips. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he returns happily. “You feeling hungry? Want some chow?”

“I would love to hit the food court,” she tells him. “I’m supposed to meet Wallace and Mac. We can have a nice lunch with them and I can share the news about how we no longer have to talk in code.”

“Talk in code?”

“Well, yeah,” she informs him. “How else were we supposed to keep Mountain Man out of our most private business?”

He chuckles. “How was class, dear?”

“Oh, well, darling, I turned in my perfect murder paper.” She grins at him. “Killed the sheriff.”

“Better hope Lamb lives a long and illustrious life, then, shouldn’t we?” he asks.

Veronica shrugs. “I wouldn’t worry about it. The wicked always outlive us all.”

They walk along, wrapped around each other, and Logan gives a deep contented sigh. She glances up at him. 

“What was that?”

He breaks off from her, hops down some of the steps, and then grips her waist and twirls her down beside him. “Just happy. Content.”

She smiles prettily up at him, giggling into the twirl. “Oh really? Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”

He gives one good skip before he tells himself to calm down. In this, the week after he kicked out his only remaining friend from high school besides the one he’s sleeping with, he had been expecting a more moody Veronica. A quiet, subdued, Veronica who pulled even more away from him. But she’s light and flirty and fun and sweet, and he wants to know how he got this lucky. 

He doesn’t want to ask, feels like it’s asking for trouble to do so, but he desperately wants to know where this Veronica came from. This girl who leans on him, who flirts with him, who is so much like the girl he thought was gone forever, after Lilly.

“So, after lunch, what are you thinking?”

“Hmm…” She stops, reaches around his neck, nips gently at his lips and smiles into his grin before kissing him soft and long. “I’m thinking, we go back to the house. See what we can russle up for fun.”

It’s later, when he’s leaning back in his chair at the food court, when she’s pressed against his side from her own chair, stealing his fries and teasing Wallace and then ganging up on Mac with Wallace, that it comes to him. She’s light and flirty and sweet because she trusts him. He gently tugs at her arm, pulls her away from a conversation with Wallace about some girl in his engineering class, and her eyes slide back over him questioningly.

“I love you,” he tells her softly, and watches as her bashful grin spreads out across her face.

“Yeah?”

It cuts him, that there’s still this hint of insecurity there, but he swallows it down. It’s all ego, he tells himself. It’s all ego to think that he should be the person in her world she feels most secure with. She’s only that for him because there’s no one else in his world. 

So instead, he answers her with a, “Yeah.”

Her bashful grin transmorphs into a smile of absolute pleasure, and he is gazing into the face of a Veronica who believes. Who believes him. Who believes in him as much as he believes in her. He feels his heart stop, skip a couple of beats, and then dance in his chest. This is what pure happiness is, he thinks. Being in this moment, knowing only her eyes. He guesses the rest of the world is still there; he’s pretty sure Wallace and Mac are still sitting with them. But all that there is, is her. If he could, he would stay like this forever, frozen in a food court. It’s less romantic a setting, and more public, than he’d ever figured on for his One True Happiness moment, but what are you going to do? he thinks. The important thing is, he’s having one. With her.

And it’s interrupted by none other than Piz, bouncing up to them and popping his moment with, “Hey gang. What’s the word? Is it ‘avuncular’?”

His only consolation, the only thing dousing his irritation and anger, is that Veronica looks out of sorts, like she does when she’s waking up. He glances about at Mac and Wallace, who are reacting to this entrance with what appears to be a bemused benevolence. 

“No?,” Piz continues, so completely oblivious to what he’s ruined that Logan almost has to find it funny. “Just a shot in the dark. Hey, set your dials to K-Ruff tonight. I mean, we’re already moving on as to what to do with the whole Greek Row ghost town next semester. I got this one guy coming on the show - wants to turn it into an ROTC training battleground. Quality radio, people.”

“Yeah,” Veronica murmurs slowly, “I’ll be sure to check that out. But right now,” she continues, squeezing Logan’s hand and sliding off of her chair, “We’ve got someplace we have to be. Right?”

“Yeah,” he answers, trying to keep in his shit eating grin, because he doesn’t want to ruin this moment with Veronica by engaging in another pissing contest with Piz, “That thing. That important thing. We’ll have to do this again later.”

“Uh huh,” Mac knowingly says. “Have fun with your ‘thing’.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he leers back, and Veronica groans and pushes her face into his chest. He pulls her close, wraps his arms around her shoulders, and kisses her head. “I really, really intend to.”

“Aw, come on man,” Wallace groans out at the same time Mac wrinkles her nose and just says, “Gross”.

He shrugs. “What can I say? That thing knows how to have fun.”

Veronica whimpers in his arms and he begins to guide them away, hearing Wallace’s “That’s my almost sister!” shouted after him, causing him to grin.

But it’s Piz’s “What?” that makes him lose it completely, laughing into Veronica’s hair as they stumble away, too intertwined to walk with any sort of grace.

“You’re evil,” she grumbles into his shirt. “And you were talking sex around Wallace and Mac. How is that supposed to help you get laid?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m getting laid,” he tells her. “I’d put money down on it. And not just because I’m basically holding you up at this point.”

He emphasizes his conviction by stopping for a half a second, bending to better drop a kiss on her neck.

“Evil,” she gasps. “Take me home.”

He scoops her up, just to hold her close, giddily feeling her warmth spread through his chest. “With pleasure.”

~~~

“You read the paper today?”

Her voice rings out through the living room and into the kitchen, where Logan is putting the finishing touches on their lunches, and he shakes his head as she comes into view.

“Nope. Nice bangs, by the way.”

“Thanks. I felt like a change.” She smacks the paper between them, and he stares at it. Sees an ad for Trixie Showgirls, and figures that’s probably not what she’s referring to. “What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

Veronica points, and he reads, “I’ll choose my next victim at the Pi Sig party tomorrow night. You’ve been warned”, and looks back up at his girlfriend.

“Guess I decided to dismiss the bodyguard a little too soon,” is the only thing he can think to say. Veronica just continues watching him, and he feels her, and this peace they’ve created, slipping away. “What do you want to do, here?”

He puts the ball in her corner, wants to let her know he’s on her side, he is her side, and sees the curtains over her eyes pull back until she’s staring at him like he’s some sort of hero again. “I want to go to the Pi Sig party.”

He swallows down his initial, “Hell no”, and instead nods. “Okay. What are we going to be doing there?”

She starts to smile, and it becomes clearer to him that he’s passed some kind of test, or she has. He’s not sure which one of them is testing the other, but there’s some sort of grading system happening, and he’s pretty sure he’s not the only one not on solid ground.

“What I want is for you, me, Mac, Wallace and Piz,” he groans and she gently smacks him before reiterating, “and Piz to go, mingle, and test girls’ drinks with these handy coasters.”

She hands him a stack, and he flips through them. “What -”

“I got them from Parker, at the Take Back the Night booth. They turn red when they are dipped in a drugged drink. I’ve already talked to the dean and asked that the Pi Sigs supply these coasters to the party at large.” She grins. “We are going to make sure this asshole doesn’t get another girl.”

“Yeah, we are,” he says, as he turns the coasters nervously in his hands. “Great.”

She stops, and her eyes shadow again. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not going to make you.”

“You’re doing this?” She nods at him. “Well then I’m doing it. That’s how it goes, right? You and me, being a team?”

“Yeah,” she responds softly, and smiles at him. “Yeah. We’re a team.”

“So, I’m not going to let you do this by yourself,” he concludes. “That’s just not happening.”

“You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?” He watches Veronica’s face, as she probes, and it occurs to him that this is it - this is the moment that makes or breaks them. Because she is who she is, and he is who he is. And if she’s not pushing him to the sidelines, he’s not going to swaddle her in bubble wrap.

“No.” He shakes his head, and she bites her lip in pleasure. “This is what you do, and I’m going to be doing it with you. So,” he continues as he pushes her sandwich toward her, “let’s eat lunch, and then tomorrow we’ll test drinks. For fun.”

She grins again and bites into her sandwich, and he turns around to pour them each a glass of iced tea. “How did you convince Mac to go to this shindig, by the way?”

“Puppy eyes,” she tells him, mouth full. “Resistance is futile.”

He grins as he bites into his own sandwich, because that one statement encompasses everything he could possibly want to say about Veronica Mars.

~~~

Mercer is waiting for him outside his class, so Logan slowly looks him up and down. 

“You’re not the blonde I ordered.” 

Mercer smirks. “I ran into your blonde, actually. She couldn’t make it, and I decided to fill in for her. You know, so you wouldn’t get cold on this lonely night.” Logan smirks back, and Mercer switches gears. “So, you going to the Pi Sig party tomorrow night?”

“Uh, yeah,” Logan tells him, looking down at his hands. “Veronica and a bunch of her friends are going to go, so, uh, I’m going with them.”

“Dude, your girlfriend and her friends are going, so you should do the manly thing and hang out with me and your other friends,” Mercer tells him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Boozing it up, am I right?”

“Well,” Logan hesitates, “Veronica’s kind of doing a project so -”

“What kind of project?”

He shrugs. “You read the paper, right? Rapist is going after his next victim there.”

Mercer cocks his head toward him, and grins disbelievingly. “And your girlfriend is going to, what, investigate?”

“Yeah. You know, she’s going to do her thing. That thing she does that got you off,” he ends, a little testily, tired of people doubting Veronica’s skills.

His friend grins again. “Yeah, and I appreciate that, but how’s she gonna catch this guy? I mean, he seems like he’s pretty smart himself.”

Logan shrugs. “She’s got some type of coaster that tests for drugs in drinks. So we’re all on the watch for girls who seem out of it.”

“Yeah, there won’t be ton of those at the Pi Sig party just from drinking alone,” Mercer snarks, and Logan stiffens. 

“We’ve got to try something, man. So what if we get a couple dozen blanks if we manage to save the one girl who was actually drugged?”

Mercer’s smile turns, and Logan watches his friend. “Wow. You really care about this, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Logan tells him, and for the first time, he realizes it is true. “Anything I can do that could help, I have to do it.”

Because, he wants to say, he knows what it’s like to feel powerless, to ache and to hate the ache, to have a constant physical reminder of how he couldn’t protect himself. How he failed himself. It’s a little about Veronica. It’s a little about how much Veronica has put herself into this case, and why. It’s a little how much guilt he feels over Duncan, and Beaver. But it’s also about him, and how much he desperately needed someone to be the hero.

“I need to help them,” he tells Mercer, and leaves it at that. 

Mercer grips his shoulder for a second, and then lets his arm fall to his side. 

“You know,” he says, considering, “I never figured you for a white knight. But if it means that much to you, here’s what I think we should do. We should get to the party early, scope it out, and see if we find any suspicious activity. And then your girl and her gang can come in and we might have some leads for them. And in the meantime, maybe you and Dick can make nice and you and I can hang, and it’ll be a nice three in one combo. What do you say?”

“I’ll talk to Veronica,” he tells Mercer. “See if that works for her.”

Mercer’s jaw tightens, and Logan grins. He finally grinds out, “Yeah. Sure. If Veronica approves.”

“We’re a team,” Logan states, and it is so good to say out loud, to someone else. To explain their relationship, the give and the take. “Me and her. All the way.”

“If that’s how you want to live, buddy, don’t let me stop you.”

Logan laughs. “I won’t. Give me two seconds, I’m going to go call a girl.”

He steps away from Mercer, and dials Veronica. When she answers, he tells her, “Hey, I was missing you outside my class today. Luckily, I had a brunet replace you.”

“Ha ha,” she answers. “How is Mercer?”

“Doing pretty well. He, uh, he thought I might go with him to the Pi Sig party early. Maybe scout out the party and the girls before you and the gang arrived.”

“And because he’s been missing you?”

Logan grins affectionately at his phone, at the Veronica he can’t see. “Yeah, that too. So, what do you think?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll catch a ride with Wallace.”

“Cool. Where are you, anyway?” It’s a nagging worry, and she’s done her best to work with him on it just like he’s done his best to not let it devour him completely.

“Running some errands,” she tells him. “Fixing my perfect murder paper so it can be put on-line. That sort of thing. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” He pauses, readies himself. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” she answers.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She gets quiet and a bit mumbly, and he smiles at her continued bashfulness. 

“I think so too,” he teases, and reminds himself that the sting should be more of a pin prick, due to the obvious pleasure she gets from him telling her this. “Bye.”

“Bye,” she echoes, and then hangs up.

“She’s cool with it,” he tells Mercer, putting his phone away.

Mercer nods, examines him shrewdly. “She doesn’t say it back?”

“Nope.” Logan looks down, schools his features, and then smiles at Mercer. “It’s hard for her.”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Three little words. So hard.”

Defending her is almost automatic, but he has nothing to say. So he just raises his eyebrows and pushes Mercer gently into the wall. “When we meeting up?”

Mercer thankfully bows out of the previous conversation, and tells him, “I’m thinking pretty early. Sixish? That way, we can get some of the good alcohol, and mingle before the Mystery Theater part of the evening begins.”

Logan nods, and slips his hand into the pocket with his phone. “Sounds good to me, man. I’ll meet you there.”

His friend pouts. “Where are you running off to now, man?”

“Home. I’m going to go get love from a pit bull and wait on my girl.”

Mercer groans, but lets him go. Which is all he can ask for. Mercer may not get it. Mercer may not want it. But all Logan needs is for him not to harp on it. He and Veronica are working, finally, the way he’s always wanted them to. And he’s not going to waste his time trying to convince his friend that this is right. It is right. And only he and Veronica need to know it. Only Veronica and him need to live it.


	46. Chapter 46

Even with Mercer’s best of intentions, he and Dick manage to avoid each other when they arrive early to the Pi Sigs bash. The fact that Dick does gives Logan hope that he knows how what he did was wrong. Or at least knows that Logan thinks what he did was wrong. He’ll take either at this point. 

Mercer does his due diligence, wandering around the party with him, checking in with some of the girls who have gotten there early. He smarms it up so Logan doesn’t have to, casually hitting on all of them, flirting with them, grinning with them, and then asking them if he can dip his stick in their cup. If there’s one part of this night that Logan is sure is going to stick out, it’s how often that line actually works. All of the cups Mercer gets test negative, and he gets more than a few phone numbers out of the deal, too. 

Some of the girls, the ones who don’t respond well to Mercer, are Logan’s - and he flirts and grins at them and tells them this is a public service, testing drinks. He does his duty and gives them all coasters for the night, and a couple of girls try to give him their numbers for it. Mercer saves him from that, too.

“Nah, he’s really just doing this because he’s such a solid guy. But, sorry, ladies, he’s also practically married. Has an estranged pseudo child and dog and dad mobile and everything. But me? I’m swinging single these days.”

He smiles, and nods along with Mercer’s whole routine. “Yeah, my girlfriend should be here soon,” is his line. “But the car isn’t a dad mobile. It’s a Range Rover.”

Mercer rolls his eyes at the girl and gently hip checks her. “See what I’m saying? It’s a British car, dude. British.”

“So’s the Jaguar, dude,” Logan retorts. “And the Aston Martin.”

“And if you were driving either of those,” Mercer tells him, tossing his arms around the blonde who originally asked for his number and the brunette Mercer had been talking to, “we would be impressed. But it’s a Range Rover. Which is just - it’s not cool, man. It’s you being old.”

“Well, I am an old soul,” he waxes philosophically. And then the room shifts. 

He’s tried to describe what happens when Veronica enters a room, but the most he’s got for it is a line from Buffy the Vampire Slayer about the lights dimming everywhere else. It makes him sound sappy, and it makes him sound like he’s in some Nicholas Sparks novel; and while he’s comfortable with both of those things, it doesn’t do this moment, when he realizes she’s in the room even before he sees her fully, justice.

And it doesn’t even begin to touch the moment after that, when he’s meeting her eyes and everything else falls away, at all. This is one of those circumstances where language fails, he thinks. Because all he wants is to tell her and everyone around her who she is to him. What she does to him. And all he can think is that she’s Veronica. The only way he can translate this moment into words is her name. Veronica Mars.

She stiffens when she takes in the scene in front of her, and he hates all the more than the doesn’t have the words to make her understand, blames his lack of poetry for the fact that she’s radiating insecurity. But he smiles at her, and mouths, “Only you”, and watches her steel her spine and walk forward, shoulders back.

Mercer catches on as he straightens, and tells the girls, “Hey, look, it’s the old ball and chain now!”

They scatter as Logan reaches for her, and she tucks herself under his arm like she’s meant to be there. “Hey, Mercer.”

“Hey, Veronica,” Mercer greets pleasantly. “How’s the drug hunt going for you?”

“No positives yet,” she reports. “According to Wallace, though, Piz lit up the dance floor in a way he’s never seen before.”

Logan cocks his head at her, and Mercer squints confusedly before asking, “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” she says with pronounced glee, “he embarrassed himself for the cause. Boy may be in line to get some homemade cookies.”

“No, he’s not,” Logan tells her, “because that’s just doing what we’re supposed to be doing. Right?”

He glances at Mercer for some support, and Mercer nods. “Oh. Yeah. But if you’re going to be baking, I mean, I could always go for some cookies.”

“Dude.” Logan glares at him, and Mercer’s eyes widen innocently.

“Dude, who’s going to pass up cookies? I mean, if it were brownies, maybe. But cookies? No way. Do you take requests?”

He watches his girlfriend’s eyes narrow playfully. “I don’t know,” she says. “How have you done tonight?”

He puffs up. “Very well, if I do say so myself.”

Logan grins. “Yeah. Mercer has been the very model of a modern major-general. He’s sacrificed a lot of drinking and gambling good frat boys out of their money in order to flirt with girls in order to test their drinks. And in the interest of following up with those girls, he’s even taken a lot of their numbers.”

He watches his friend’s face fall, and grins victoriously as Veronica’s own smile turns predatory. “Ah, well, it seems like the cause is giving plenty of ‘cookies’ back to you already, my friend.”

He continues to grin as Mercer glowers at him. “You’re a bastard.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the weasel who tried to get the guy who wants into my girlfriend’s pants cookies. So, even?”

The guy gives them both a jaunty salute, saying, “Yeah, okay. You two have fun.”

“You don’t have to go, Mercer,” Veronica protests. “I’m just mostly dropping in to say hi.”

“Yeah, well, as Logan pointed out, there are more than a few ladies who are in want of my company. And they’re turning my show on after the band.” He points at both of them. “I hope you two brought your dancing shoes.”

“Let me guess -” Logan starts as Mercer walks away, “- we’re not going to be dancing. Just investigating.”

“I am what I am,” she answers, and he pulls her closer.

“Just saying hi, huh?” He grins down at her as she burrows farther into his arms, and blushes lightly.

“Yeah, well, there’s work to be done. And conversations to be had at a later point about how Piz doesn’t want in my pants.”

“You’re adorable, you know that?”

“I hate you,” she growls, and he grins as he presses a kiss to her hair.

Anything else is cut short by Wallace careening into view, and opening with an urgent, “Hey”, Piz right behind him.

“We got a positive,” he tells the two of them for Wallace, and his roommate nods.

“This cup,” Wallace continues, holding the cup up for them to see, “was dosed with a date-rape drug. It belongs to - Kim Kaiser,” he continues, after squinting at the name.

“Okay,” Veronica takes over, Investigator Mars coming out to play. “So, where’s Kim Kaiser?”

Piz answers for Wallace again, and Logan resists the urge to punch him again. “We asked around. No one’s seen her, but we found someone who knows where she lives. She’s off campus by the marina. Uh, Harbor View Apartments.”

Her jaw clenches, and his entire focus is dedicated to her again. “All four girls were raped in their own rooms. We’ve got to get there. I parked on campus and walked. Who’s got the closest car?”

It chokes him, this dread slowly crawling up his throat, visions of Veronica meeting up with the rapist swimming before his eyes. He can’t let it happen - doesn’t want her to be in the same town as this guy, let alone the same room. He doesn’t know how to let her be who she is if who she is means willingly sending her off into danger. 

“I do,” he tells her, turns her, looks her square in the eye. “But you’re staying here. I’ll go.”

She starts to protest, and he cuts her off, desperate for her to let him keep her unscathed. “Veronica, please!” She stops, and he watches the war within her before she nods for him to continue. “Let me do this part.”

It isn’t what she wants to do, he knows that. But as she gazes up at him, he feels her letting go. And he starts to relax even before she acquiesces, because he knows. They’re both giving and taking, and this is her giving. 

“Okay, go,” she tells him, and he nods and turns to go when she grabs at his arm. “Be careful.”

He pauses for a moment to give her a kiss, presses his forehead against hers in a silent promise. 

When he pulls away, Wallace tells him, “I’ll go with you.”

As they start to walk away, Veronica calls out one last instruction, determined to the last gasp to be in charge, telling them, “Get her out of her apartment!”

He bursts into the night, thrilled to be keeping Veronica from danger this one time, and turns to Wallace. “Tell me the truth: you wanted to come with me because you want some cookies too, right?”

Wallace smirks. “Damn, you’ve seen through my cunning plot! And here I thought you were going to think it was to keep Vee from jumping out of her skin, worrying about you going up against a scary rapist all by your lonesome.”

His head ducks involuntarily, and he curses himself for showing any kind of weakness, even around Wallace. “She doesn’t worry about me like that,” he tells her best friend, and the guy pushes his shoulder.

“That girl and me are tighter than two people ever should be,” he tells Logan. “So don’t be trying to tell me she doesn’t worry about you all the time. Now, I know, you’ve known her longer. But you’re a bigger fool than Piz thinks if you for one second doubt that she’s scared for you all the damn time.”

“For me, or of me?” 

Wallace’s glance is full of disappointment, and Logan amazes at how quickly he elicits that look in people. “For you. You dumbass.”

They walk in silence for a bit before Wallace continues. “You know, she used to bring me along more, on cases.”

“What?”

“Veronica. You know, she’d be begging me for favors. Making me meet up with potential bad guys. Putting me in these weird ass situations just so she could learn something or do something. But lately, it’s like - she’s doing it all herself. She’s not asking for help as much. I mean, I still get the random call here and there. But not like it was. Mac says the same thing. And the fact that she listened to you, just then? That’s a big deal to me. Because it means you’re getting through to her.” Logan nods to the car, unlocks it, and they both climb in.

“You think it’s a big deal?”

“That she’s letting you take point on a case that’s gotten under her skin to such a degree, she dragged Mac to a frat house? Yeah. I do.”

There’s a pleasure, and a pride, in this, in having Wallace recognize that he’s doing good - that he’s good for Veronica. That he’s good with Veronica. He starts humming and drives toward the marina, and Wallace reaches for the radio.

“So, how are we going to get a drugged out girl out of her apartment?”

He taps nervously on the steering wheel. “Don’t know.”

“How are we going to find out which apartment is Kim Kaiser’s?”

Logan laughs. “I don’t know.”

Wallace snorts. “You know, we might have to work at this planning stuff in the future. Otherwise, Vee’s not going to let us do solo missions anymore.”

“I think this is more of a tandem mission. Or a duo mission.”

“You know what I mean,” Wallace snorts. “She’s gonna put us on desk duty. And I’ve been on desk duty. It’s no fun.”

“When did you end up on desk duty?” Logan has to ask. And Wallace’s smiles.

“Okay, so remember when Polly was stolen?”

He shrugs. “Nope. I’m pretty sure I had something bigger going on. Dead moms or being arrested for murder or something. You know.”

Wallace stares at him for a second, before he nods pityingly. But he just says, “Our lives aren’t normal,” before continuing. “Anyway, we thought it was Pan High, so we stole their goat. And it ate everything. Vee caught me, with the goat, made fun of me, and then put me on desk duty for a hot minute. And it was funny, because she’s funny. But as much as I sometimes wanted her to just be normal, those couple of days weren’t fun. Of course, it turns out she had nothing going on and just played it off as desk duty, but still.”

“No desk duty,” Logan intones, and Wallace nods.

“That’s what I’m shooting for. No desk duty.”

~~~

It doesn’t take them long before they get to the apartment complex, before Wallace cajoles the apartment number for Kim Kaiser out of another apartment dweller, under the guise of needing her for a class project. Wallace doesn’t even bother faking which class it is, just casually walks up and acts like he’s the best guy in the world, and the girl falls for it.

He had been intending on smarming it up, laying the Echolls charm on as thick as possible. But Wallace had given him a look that was all Veronica, and told him, “I got this.”

Logan didn’t think he did, until he sees it. Until he realizes that Wallace’s way works because he is the best guy in the world. He’s Veronica before Lilly’s death, a person who is just good. No wonder Veronica was attracted to that, he thinks. No wonder this guy became her best friend. Veronica wouldn’t be best friends with anyone less.

Wallace jogs back over to where he’s waiting, and tells him, “She’s apartment 312. And that nice lady wants us to do really well on our project.” And then, off of Logan’s prolonged examination, “What?”

“How did you do that?”

Wallace’s grin begins showing signs of his pride. “I watch Vee a lot, when she’s in action. She does this thing. It’s completely small, blonde white girl, so I can’t do it like she does. But she makes people feel like she’s the sweetest thing in the world. So, I try to do that. Think good thoughts or whatever. Maybe it comes through that all I really want is for the Kim Kaisers to be safe.”

He thinks this may be the difference between himself and Wallace, himself and Veronica. He wants a lot of things more than he wants the Kim Kaisers to be safe. 

They go up the elevator. He’s not sure what Wallace is thinking. He’s not sure if the same anxious adrenaline is running through the other guy’s veins, if Wallace is wondering what this guy looks like. What a guy who rapes women and shaves their heads could possibly look like. Could possibly be like. He would bet that Wallace isn’t visualizing running his fist into that guy’s face - whatever it looks like - again and again and again.

“So,” he starts as they walk into the hallway, “we’re in the building.”

“Yup,” Wallace says. 

“And we know which is her apartment.”

“Right again.”

“We still haven’t figured out how to get into that apartment.”

“Well,” Wallace returns, thoughtful, “I thought you could pull some of your psycho mojo and kick the door down, if she doesn’t answer.”

Incredulous, he can’t help but ask, “You want me to kick down a door?”

And watches Wallace’s grin turn a bit evil. “Better you than me. Plus, when Vee comes to bail one of us out of jail, I want to be the one smirking with her on the right side of the bars.”

“And here I thought we were getting along.”

“We are. And we’ll be getting along even better when you take the fall, so I don’t have to explain what I was doing to both my mother and to my sister from another mister. Because I don’t know what you know about my mom, but I can tell you that I do not want her to find out I was ever anywhere near a jail cell.”

“It must be nice,” Logan tells him, feeling a warmth of affection for this woman he’s only met a few times. “It must be really nice,” he continues, “to have a mom you’re worried about disappointing.”

Wallace stops, and appears chagrined. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean -”

“No. Don’t.” Logan puts up a hand to stop him, and pivots so he can look at Wallace head on. “I mean it. It’s just not something I know too much about. It’s something I envy, honestly. And I’m going to channel that feeling into my attempt at kicking down that door.”

Wallace reaches toward him, and grips his shoulder. Squeezes it a little. “I gotta call my mom tomorrow,” he mutters, and then walks down the hall toward Kim Kaiser’s room.

They stand there for a second, and Logan awkwardly knocks. Expects no response. 

“Can I help you?” The door opens enough for Logan to see a girl’s head, looking suspicously and quizzically out at him.

“Uh, yeah,” He answers. “We’re looking for Kim Kaiser.”

“I’m Kim Kaiser,” she answers. “What’s the about?”

Flummoxed, he turns to Wallace, who looks every bit as stunned at this turn of events as he is. “Uh, at the Pi Sig party, did you - drink out of your cup?”

“I didn’t go to the Pi Sig party,” Kim answers, and the bottom falls out from Logan’s stomach. He reaches into his pocket for his phone as she continues. “I stayed in to study. My sister Carrie went.”

“We have to go,” Logan tells Wallace, who is trying and failing to figure out what is happening, as he stares at the missed call from Veronica. “We have to go now.”

“Wait,” Kim Kaiser calls out as Logan starts running without Wallace toward the stairs. “What’s going on? Is Carrie okay?”

“Uh,” Wallace gets out before his phone starts to ring. “I have to go. Piz?”

Logan watches his own phone light up, his ringer silenced. Mac’s name pops up across the screen. “Mac? What’s going on?’

“We lost Veronica,” Mac’s panicked voice comes through the line. “I haven’t seen her in at least ten minutes. But it wasn’t Kim Kaiser.”

“I know,” Logan gasps out as he leaps down the stairs. “We just talked to her. What do you mean you lost Veronica?”

He can visualize Mac’s helpless shrug as her voice gets a little higher. “I’m here with Piz. We lost track of her. Logan, I don’t know where she is.”

“I’m coming back to campus. Just - find her. Please.”

He bursts out of the stairwell. Knocks into a couple of people as he races for his car. Gets the keys in the ignition, and prepares to peel off when Wallace comes flying into the hood.

“If you leave my ass here,” Wallace growls, “I will kick yours once I track you down. You get me?”

“Get in,” Logan yells back. “Just get in the fucking car. We have to go!”

The ride back to campus is a nightmare. He grips the wheel, white-knuckled, and barely registers that Wallace is still with him. Neither one of them say anything, both sucked into their own private hells.

Wallace doesn’t even complain when Logan drives onto the lawn of the Pi Sig house, almost hitting some of the drunker partiers before they both fall out of the car and run back toward the house. Wallace grabs his arm and yanks him around when they’re about to reach it, and he figures out why before he belts him. There are flashing lights in the distance, up near Benes Hall.

“Veronica,” Wallace pants, and they turn and take off again, abandoning the car.

They’re almost there when Logan stops, turns, and throws up onto the sidewalk before falling to his knees and dry heaving. Wallace stops too, looks torn, and then jogs back and grips the back of his shirt.

“You gotta get up, man,” Wallace gasps out. “We’re so close.”

“What if she’s not alright?” 

It tears through him, and the saliva builds up in his mouth, coats his tongue. Wallace pulls him up and pushes him ahead.

“She’s okay, Logan. She is. Because she has to be.”

There was a time in his life, a brief time, when Logan believed that. When he heard about Lilly, he thought it had to be a prank, some stupid prank she was pulling just to teach them all a lesson. He even thought Veronica was in on it, because Veronica would have to be. Lilly couldn’t be dead, because she had to be alive.

He thought the same thing about his mom. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t just leave him with Aaron, knowing what she knew. She couldn’t leave him. She had to be okay, because the world couldn’t let Aaron win and her lose. Not like that. She had to be alive.

He can’t hold onto that anymore. But he’s willing to let Wallace do it. He’s banking on Wallace believing it. If Wallace can believe it, maybe it can be true.

He doesn’t believe it, until he sees Parker and Piz standing in front of the hall. And then he does again. Because they don’t look devastated. They’re just standing around, looking overwhelmed. He breaks free of Wallace and takes off again, determined to find her. Parker sees him first, and opens her mouth, but he staggers forward and grabs her before she can.

“Where is she?” Logan gasps. “Where is she?”

Parker stares at him and gives out a whimper. Piz moves forward. “You want to let go of her?”

Logan jumps back, like he has been stung. “Yeah. Just - where’s Veronica?”

Wallace runs up behind him just as Parker tells him, “They took her to the hospital. She had some scratches, and she’d been drugged.”

Logan can feel himself shaking all over, can feel himself coming apart at the seams. Wallace has a hold on him, and he can see Parker and Piz staring down at him with concern. Piz asks the obvious, “You okay?”

But it’s Wallace who tells him, “Man, you’re going to be okay. We’re going to go, see Veronica, and she’s going to be alright. She’s going to be fine, so you have to hold it together until we can get there.”

“I never should have left her,” he tells Wallace, tells everyone standing there. “I was supposed to keep her safe.”

Wallace keeps him up. “Give me the keys, okay? I’ll get us there.”

Logan hands them over without the slightest bit of a fight. “Did anyone go with her?” He turns and asks, cringing at the desperate note his voice takes. “Is she alone?” 

“No,” Parker tells him, rubbing where he held too tight. “Mac went with her. She’s with Mac.”

Logan nods, and lets Wallace lead him off, back to the car he ran as fast as he could from what seems like only moments before.

Wallace puts him in the passenger seat, and Logan wonders for the first time if he’s going insane. He’s a doer, and right now he can barely move. He tells Wallace that, all of it. Wallace looks concerned and backs up over the curb Logan had hopped.

“Man, I don’t think you’re going insane. I think you’re terrified. I know I am.”

“Your teeth aren’t chattering, though,” Logan fights to say.

Wallace drives fast. “Yeah? That’s thanks to you. Seriously, if you weren’t taking the hard deal of falling apart, I wouldn’t be working so much at keeping it together.”

Logan stares, and watches the streets flow by. He doesn’t stop feeling like the world is moving too fast. 

When they get to the hospital, he leaves Wallace again, jumping out of the still moving car. If Wallace is still with him in the morning, he thinks, he may have a friend for life. Races by Mac sitting in the chairs, barely registering she is there as he stumbles and curses. One of the nurses goes to stop him, to block him from getting any further. The only thing he manages to gasp out is, “I will donate a whole wing to this shit hole. I just need to see my girlfriend.”

Mac has followed him, and she tells the nurse, “This is the guy I told you would probably be coming in like a bat out of hell.”

The nurse looks shocked, glances down at the sheet. “Logan Echolls?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re listed as her emergency contact. You didn’t pick up your phone.” She says the second part disapprovingly.

He’s going to throw up, again, right where he stands, if that’s what’s going to keep him from finding Veronica; but then Wallace is there, skidding into the group, smoothing things over and leading her away. Mac takes him by the elbow. “I’ll take you to her.”

“Thanks,” he rasps.

“Then you’re going to have to fill out a lot of forms,” she tells him, “because I don’t know a lot about Veronica’s medical history.”

He stumbles again, and Mac slips under his arm, supporting him. “Are you going to be okay?” It’s different when she asks it.

“I need to see her. I need to -” He’s drowning. He’s choking. He’s dying. He needs her. He needs her to be alright, like Wallace promised. Mac pulls him along. 

“Listen,” Mac tells him, “she was out of it in the ambulance. She didn’t know how she got here. And I’m just telling you this so you don’t freak out when we get there, because she’s okay. Just really groggy.”

“Okay. She’s okay?” Mac nods. 

“She’s okay. Here’s her room,” she tells him, and he grants her the smallest smile before he walks through the door.

Everything stops once he catches sight of her. Small and fragile in the bed, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

She notices him, and croaks out a broken, breathy, weak, “Logan?”

He vaults across the room. 

“Hey, Baby.” In this moment, he curses their ironic nicknames. He wants something familiar to call her that isn’t coated with anything other than the pure mush he knows she hates. He pushes some hair back from her head, and hisses when he sees her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got drugged,” she slowly works out. “You’d think I’d build up a - a tolerance or something. By now.”

A few tears escape him, and he dabs the end of his nose with his sleeve. Still, he gives a little laugh. “Yeah.” Presses a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re slacking on that one, Mars.”

She rolls her neck. “How are you?”

“I’m hanging on,” he tells her. “I almost lost it. I wasn’t there -”

“I’m glad,” she tells him, leaning on him. “You would have killed them.”

He groans. “I still might.”

Veronica shifts so that she’s pressing her head against his shoulder. “I have to say, I wouldn’t be opposed.” She holds his hand, gripping it slightly. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“It was Mercer, Logan. He was the one.”

Ice floods his veins, and he curbs the impulse to squeeze her tightly to him. “What?”

Veronica trembles, and he worries that it isn’t the drugs. It’s this - telling him this. “He was the rapist. He was working with Moe, Wallace’s RA? I think they got together during that sociology experiment you and he did, only last year.”

“Mercer.”

“Yeah.” She says it quietly, like she’s preparing for him to not believe her, to challenge her.

“It was Mercer.”

“Yeah,” she says again.

He pulls her to him, breathes in her hair. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry I let him get near you.”

Veronica is warm and soft, and she snuggles up into his embrace. “It wasn’t your fault, Logan. I just - I needed to let you know.” She yawns the tiniest of yawns and tells him, “I’m gonna check out for a little bit.”

“Yeah, okay.” He presses another kiss to her head as she drifts off to sleep. He clings to her.

Disapproving Nurse is back, with Wallace following behind. “Mr. Echolls?”

“Yeah?” 

“We have some forms I’m going to need you to address.” She glares at him more, daring him to argue. He wants to.

“Wallace, sit with her?” The guy is already there. “She seems okay,” he tells her best friend. “A little groggy. But -” he wipes his eyes, “ - she was joking about this, so...”

Wallace nods. “Alright. I’ll get you the second anything changes.”

Logan goes to nod, and then shakes his head. “No, send Mac. Or leave Mac here when you come. I don’t want her alone.”

Wallace agrees. He follows Disapproving Nurse to the hall. “Can you handle this?”

He gives a hollow laugh. “Yeah. I can.”

“Fill these out. To the best of your ability.” Disapproving Nurse looks like she thinks the best of his ability is going to be a paltry effort, but he doesn’t really care.

“I already filled out a set of these a couple of weeks ago,” he protests.

“And those forms weren’t sufficient. You didn’t finish filling them out.” She pushes the clipboard into his hands.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll just, get them back to you when I’m done.” Slides down into a seat.

As he looks over questions like allergies and insurance information, he wonders if this is some hospital devised torture. Sure, all you hold dear is battered and bruised, but take precious time away from her and that and wrack your brain for meaningless information. He sighs and bangs the board against his head a few times. Gets back to work. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when Wallace shuffles out toward him and sits heavily beside him.

“This sucks,” he says as greeting, and Logan nods.

“She awake?”

“Nah, she’s sleeping like the -” Wallace stops, looks like someone poisoned his cheerios. “Anyway. She’s out of it. Mac’s sitting with her. But you shouldn’t be alone either.”

“You know the really ironic thing about this?” Logan asks. “The truly perverse thing?” Wallace has concern written all over his face, but nods. “She doesn’t drink at random parties. She barely drinks at home, when it’s just me. I drink my weight some days, and she sits there sipping on Skist or a water. And they still got to her.”

Wallace bites his lip, and nods. “Yeah, and she’s paranoid enough as it is.” He stretches back and sighs. “I want to throttle her for even thinking about going after him alone, after we went out to keep her from doing that.”

Logan can feel the grin forming, even though he’s as far from happy as he’s been in a long time. “I know. I just - I want to know what the hell she was thinking, but I know what she was thinking. She gets fucking tunnel vision and doesn’t stop to figure out that she’s just being an idiot.”

Wallace sighs, and lets his head drop back to the wall. “I figure, she’s like a superhero. I mean, that’s who she is to me. I get that she’s pathetically tiny and all that, but I can’t see that there’s anything she can’t do. And then we’re here.”

“This is my second time here in about as many weeks,” Logan tells him. “With her. Like this. Last time, I was the one to get to her before anything - but now, I’m just...” He’s distracted from Wallace for half a second when he sees Sacks and Lamb heading toward them. Pushes himself up and off the wall and hands Wallace the board and paperwork. He doesn’t want to have anything in his hands he can hit Lamb with.

Sacks looks apologetic. “We’re here to get her statement.”

Lamb nods. Logan drags himself up to his full height. “You can fuck off.”

“I thought you’d want her to talk to us,” the sheriff jeers. “Get those two off the street right quick.”

“She was unconscious when she was brought in,” Logan returns grimly. “She can’t help you find them. And if you need anything else from her aside from what other people have told you, you can wait until she’s feeling up to it.”

Lamb goes to rebut, but Sacks cuts in with a, “She not doing good?” 

The guy looks sadly pathetic. Logan sighs. “She’s out of it. I don’t know how much they dosed her with, but it wasn’t a little bit. They wanted her out, and quick.”

“And how exactly do you know that?” Lamb asks. “Witnesses have you not being anywhere near her when this happened.”

It’s like Lamb borrowed Weevil’s map to his sore spots. “I know, because I got the information from people like her friends. I didn’t have to bother the drugged girl just because she’s the only one who can make a case around here.”

Lamb smirks as he snaps his gum. “Well, whether or not you approve, we’re going to be talking to her. Tonight.”

Tries to push by Logan, who stands his ground. “Or, you can try actually finding the bad guy for once.”

“I seem to remember having his ass locked away before you and Nancy Drew in there got him out.”

Logan grins. “Well, yeah. But I have Mercer’s number.”

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

“You know, Veronica tracked me down earlier this year using the global positioning my cell phone provided. Are you telling me she could do that, but you can’t?”

Lamb glares at him, and Logan’s smirk deepens. “We’re still going to have to confirm the ID of the perp with the victim.”

“And then?”

“We’ll track them down with the number you provided. If he’s not smart enough to turn off his phone.”

Logan shrugs. “He’s nineteen. He’s not going to be that smart. But say he is. Can’t you get records of the numbers he’s called? Figure out which one is Moe’s and track his ass down too.”

Lamb glowers at him. “One of these days, you and your little girlfriend are going to leave the crime solving to the authorities.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees. “Once we’ve got crime solving authorities.”

“You can’t be in the room when we question her.” Lamb tells him, and shuts the door to Veronica’s room behind him.

His wait is only a few minutes, during which time he finishes up the paperwork and returns it to Disapproving Nurse; and when Lamb and Sacks come out, one of them is full of bluster and the other one has his tail between his legs. “Get what you needed?”

Both officers stare at him, and he walks into Veronica’s room. 

“I want to go home,” she tells him, and he kisses her.

“I want you to come home too, but I don’t know what the doctors think about that.”

Her puppy eyes are less and more effective in her drugged state, and he hurts for her. “Find out?”

“The things I do for love,” he tells her, and slides back off her bed. 

~~~

It doesn’t take much to convince Wallace to stay over with them, just like it doesn’t take much for Disapproving Nurse to give the approval for Veronica to go home. 

“Same drill as last time?” Logan asked, and that was it. 

He takes a little longer getting back to Veronica’s room, though. He wants to make a call first.

“Van Lowe,” the voice answers cheerily. “If you’re in a tight spot or want to catch your spouse in one, I’m the private eye to call!”

“Yeah, it’s Logan Echolls,” he tells the guy.

“Ah, Mr. Echolls. The rate’ll be quadruple for you, either way. Because Veronica’s a tricky girl, and I have a healthy amount of respect for her. So if you’re dicking around, it’ll cost you. And if you think she is, well, that’s gonna be a lot of work on my end.” 

“No, look, she was attacked tonight, and I know who did it. I’m willing to pay you quadruple your rate, if you’ll find the guys, drag their asses to the Neptune sheriff’s department, and give me a call when you do.” He bites at a hangnail, waiting on the reply, and a little dismayed Vinnie Van Lowe knows he and Veronica are together.

“Let me get this straight, kid - you know who attacked her, you’re going to give me the information I need to track them down, and you want them delivered to the sheriff. That right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s right. I already gave the info to Lamb, but I think you’ll be faster.”

“Listen, this job, I’m going to do for rate. Because it’s Veronica. But the next time we do business, expect to pay cash money, got it?”

“You like Veronica?” 

“I’d like to think we have a mutual appreciation, but I can see how most of it is on my end,” the PI tells him. “I’ll call you with the info.”

“Thanks,” he says, and hangs up before walking back into Veronica’s room. “Good news, bobcat. You’re being released from captivity. And Wallace is coming home with us.”

“Yay,” she answers. “Did it take a lot of effort?”

“So much,” he tells her. “You’re really popular around here, so they wanted to keep you. But I managed to get you out.”

He lets Wallace drive them home, and he and Wallace drag two chairs together to form a bed in the master bedroom for him. Give Veronica her medicine, and then he tucks her in as she slides back into unconsciousness.

“What did you do?”

Wallace’s voice is low but clear, and Logan stiffens. “What did I do, when?”

“In the time between when we were told you could take Vee home and when you told Vee you could take her home. Something went down. I want to know what.”

He looks serenely at the other guy in the low light of the room, and brushes some of Veronica’s hair out of her face. “I hired Vinnie Van Lowe to find Mercer and Moe, and to let me know when he brought them to Lamb.”

Wallace stares at him. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“I thought you were going to want to beat the crap out of them or something, man.”

Logan can feel his father’s smile stretch across his face. “I do. But I don’t want to kill them. Police officers being around definitely makes that possibility a little less probable.”

“You are one scary mofo,” Wallace tells him. “What are you going to do about Vee?”

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Wallace starts, and Logan shrugs in response to his obvious shock. “I want someone here when I go. I want someone I - someone _she_ trusts to be with her.”

“She wouldn’t want this,” Wallace whispers, pleading, and all mirth wipes itself out of Logan’s head.

“Who do you think she is? Because what I’m going to do is exactly what she would want. Someone has to pay, Wallace. And I’m going to make sure they do.”

Wallace looks to her, and Logan follows his gaze. He wants to know what Wallace sees there, because he sees the girl who planted a bong in his locker, the girl who makes people pay for their sins against her and against him. The girl who would take on the world, who had taken on the world, if a loved one was hurt.

“I want to do this for her,” he tells Wallace, “because she would do this for me.”

Wallace looks at him, and Logan can’t decipher its meaning. “Yeah, okay. You two are kind of screwed up, you know that?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I’ll watch over her, while you do your thing,” he tells Logan decisively. Relief rushes through him. And then Wallace crawls into the makeshift bed, and falls asleep, leaving Logan to wait on Vinnie’s call.


	47. Chapter 47

Van Lowe’s call comes in the morning. Early, but far later than he anticipated.

“Had to cart them all the way back to Neptune,” he offers as an explanation. “You’re lucky I even worked on it last night. I missed out on quality beauty sleep for this job.”

Logan scowls into the phone as he moves out of the bedroom. “You’re getting paid.”

“But only my usual day rate,” Vinnie muses. “I made a mistake, getting attached to that kid.”

“Yeah, well, your check’s on its way to the mailbox, right now.” 

“Yeah, okay. Haven’t heard that one a hundred times before,” he snorts. And then, “Hey, whatever you’re planning on doing - be smart about it, would ya?”

“I’m not planning on doing anything,” he denies, and the answering silence is enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Yeah, of course you aren’t. Well, this is the end of the line, kid. We keep chatting any longer and you get charged for two days of work instead of one.”

“It’s been less than 12 hours,” Logan protests, and Vinnie laughs.

“But it’s been 12 hours spread out over two days. I got other cases that need my discerning eye. And remember, next job’ll cost you.” The line goes dead, and he curses the fact Van Lowe got the last word. 

Walks back into the bedroom, and shakes Wallace. Whispers, “Hey, it’s game time.”

“What?” is Wallace’s sleepy reply, and Logan grins at Veronica’s best friend.

“Vinnie called. I’m heading out. But I figured I’d wake you up first. Tell you the news. Mercer and Moe are going to become intimately acquainted with the Neptune justice system.”

“Is that a euphemism for your fists?”

His grin turns sharp. Arches an eyebrow. “It wasn’t. But now that you mention it...”

“Man, just - come back, okay? She needs you.”

He stills. “It’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Wallace shrugs off the blankets, and rearranges himself into a sitting position. Maintains eye contact, and just says, “Yeah, I do.”

“Because she needs me,” he echos, nodding toward the bed.

Wallace frowns, still oozing empathy. “Because someone other than her’s got to.”

He shuffles his feet, ducks his head. Rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well,” he starts, “it doesn’t have to be your job.”

“It’s no job,” the guy counters. “It’s just what it is. And you clearly need it, with you going out and pulling the crap I know you’re about to be pulling.”

It naggles at him, this care pouring from a guy he barely knows. A guy who is solely Veronica’s. Who, for the longest time, couldn’t stand him. In a lifetime of shoes dropping, he finds it hard to trust that it won’t happen again. But here it is. A person Veronica trusts implicitly, offering him at least a little bit of what he’s already given to her. “Where did Veronica even find you?”

“Taped to a flagpole,” Wallace shoots off. “Because that’s what you people do, with your vigilante ways.”

He smirks at that, and shrugs. “Maybe it’s something in the water. I’m off to find my quarry.” Grows serious. “You’ll watch her?”

“Dude, I don’t know what you think I’ve been doing since I landed in this town, but I take care of her, just like she takes care of me.”

It isn’t unexpected, but it’s still something that leaves him a bit adrift. Stalwart and true isn’t usually in the cards, and he gives a graceless shrug once more. “Just, you know, like to hear it.”

“Don’t think I’m going to come and get you out of jail, either,” Wallace tells him,trailing along behind as Logan navigates the stairs. “You’re gonna be sitting there for a long ass time if I’m your call.”

He turns, quirks an eyebrow. “What happened to you worrying about me?”

“Tough love,” Wallace shoots back. “Learned it from my mom. Might teach you a thing or two.”

“I’ve been getting tough love all my life,” he answers as he reaches the front door.

“No,” Wallace says, quietly, serious. “You haven’t.”

Unsettled, he peers back at the guy, who nods once and shuts the door behind him. Veronica wouldn’t tell, he thinks. She guards some of his secrets as vigilantly as she does her own. Which means Wallace figured something out. Wallace knows. His shoulders slide up, his back tenses. Wallace knows. The familiar sickeningly sweet taste erupts on the back of his tonge. But he pushes it back. His father is dead. Wallace knows, Aaron is dead, and he can work through this. He can do that, but later.

The important thing now is to find some cops.

~~~

It isn’t that hard, actually, to find some cops. The first cop car he sees is at his second stop, the diner. The first was to a doughnut shop, because he’s a sucker for the cliche.

He’s all coiled rage. Coiled rage, and a baseball bat. He looks at them, hard and long, makes eye contact through the window. And then starts the process of breaking the windshield Bit by bit. Meticulously. Focused. Bat up. Bat down. And again. And again.

He counts. 6 and a half swings of the bat for the cops to get to him.

He stops when he hears them. When he hears the command to freeze. Lets the bat drop. Watches them pick it up. Lets them lock the cuffs into place. Slides down in the seat, and refrains from pressing his head against the glass.

The echoes of Wallace’s disapproval still dance around the corners of his consciousness. He pushes it away. Pushes away the idea that Wallace will be disappointed in him. Pushes away everything but Veronica.

He thinks over the odds, of getting the cell with Mercer and Moe.

They’re not great. If the two are split up, he’s got to pin his hopes on getting in with Mercer. If they’re together, the sheriff’s department probably won’t want all three of them in one cell. And luck has never been one to be on his side. It stings at him that he might be spending the weekend in a jail cell, away from Veronica, for nothing. A fool’s errand that will prove Wallace right. 

The deputies pull up, pull him out, and he remains docile. Remains complacent.

The walk is one he knows, and it gives him time to figure out his move if this doesn’t proceed the way he needs it to. Overflowing the toilet, rapping against the bars. They turn the corner, the three of them, and he’s face to face with Deputy Sacks.

If the guy is surprised to see him, it doesn’t register. Logan breathes out, maintains eye contact.

“What’s this?” is his only question. The balder of the two arresting officers takes the lead, and Logan watches Sacks’ face darken at the mention of cop car violence.

“Take him to cell B,” Sacks tells the guy.

He stiffens. “Isn’t cell B already full?”

Sacks shrugs, looks down disinterestedly at the papers in front of him, and Logan’s heart starts beating faster. “I think cell B can hold three college kids for a little bit. I’ll get started on the paper work.”

Three college kids. It echoes around his head. If he were able, he thinks, he’d kiss Sacks right on the mouth for this as baldy leads him away, down the corridor.

“Hey, Echolls,” Sacks calls, and he gets turned around. “That’s just your holding cell. Don’t get too comfy.”

The grin comes upon him almost involuntarily, and he’s sure it’s more than a bit feral. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he rasps back.

The hallway is as dark as he remembers. The cells look as cramped as in his not infrequent nightmares, the ones where he wasn’t released. The ones where he’s in for killing Lilly, for killing Felix. For killing his mother. He pauses in front of cell B, and Baldy opens the door.

He pauses, and then turns and enters. The bars slide shut behind him, and he hears the footsteps fade back down the hall. Takes a moment. Takes it all in. Takes them in. Mercer, on the bottom bunk. Puncture wound to the leg. He envisions sticking a finger in it, curling it, pulling. Moe, top bunk. Skinny. Curling in on himself.

Mercer’s mouth opens, and then shuts.

Logan’s face twists, his lips curling back. Fists clench and unclench, holding on just long enough for the door to slide shut. For there to be enough time between when he starts and when the guards come for him to finish.

“Hey, man,” Mercer starts again, pushing closer to the wall, farther away from him. “Just - stop and think, okay? We can talk about this.”

He feels his face twist, his lips curling back. The fists clench and unclench, and he hears the reverberation of the door closing.

“Yeah,” he growls out, as he stalks his prey, as he grabs him by the shirt and pulls him from the bottom bunk. “I’m not here for talking.”

And he lets go. Of every bit of self control. And revels in the rage. The crunch of Mercer’s nose when he fist hits it. The screams of Moe as he drags him down from the top bunk. The wails of Mercer as he punches, repeatedly, his pretty boy face. 

He makes it worse when Moe begs, when Mercer screeches, “Please”, over and over again. Slamming them together, and then ripping into Mercer again. Makes it worse for Mercer, specifically. The one he trusted. The one he asked Veronica to trust, to help. The one who played him, who put his girl in the hospital. He makes it worse, even as he hears the harried running down the halls. He makes it worse, until he hears the bars slide back. Mercer is crumpled, dangling from his hands. As Sacks approaches, he throws him down to the ground. Wipes the blood on his shirt, and puts his arms up. Rests his wrists on his head.

Breathes out.

If there’s a lesson Aaron taught that Logan made sure he absorbed, it’s this - the ability to pull back. To stop.

Aaron maintained control, but Logan has learned how to regain it. He turns to Sacks. “Ready to book me?”

~~~

He sits. Handcuffed and a bench, outside the cell block. He sits, and lets his eyes close. Hears the snapping of the gum, and allows the smallest smirk to appear.

“What the hell happened?”

“We put him in the holding cell,” Sacks explains. “And he went a little… berserk. Beat the other two kids up pretty bad.”

Logan cracks an eye open. Lamb stands at the end of the hall, hands on his hips, mouth a bit slackjawed.

“And you didn’t see that happening.”

Sacks shrugs. “I didn’t think -”

“Yeah, you’re right you didn’t think. And now we’ve got this mess to clean up.” Lamb marches toward him, hauls him on his feet. “You. I should fucking book you on felony battery charges, you know that?”

He shrugs, and Lamb pushes him forward. “Get him out of my sight.”

Sacks takes a hold of his arm, and leads him away. “I think I’ve got a pretty good lay of the land, officer,” he snarks. “I can find my way to the interrogation room all by myself now.”

Sacks doesn’t so much crack a smile as he opens the door and guides him to the chair. Logan stills. “Hey. Uh. Thanks. For that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sacks replies, deadpan. It’s enough to make him wonder if Sacks is really as clueless as he plays. “Sit tight.”

He leans back in the chair. Pops it up onto its back two legs. Waits. Lamb strides in only a few minutes later, grabs at the phone and pushes it toward him. “We’re going to talk, and then you’re going to call the public defender that moonlights as your lawyer.”

“What are we going to discuss?” Logan asks. “What spring color you should paint this room next? I’m thinking a tart apple green, maybe a Carolina Parakeet if you were looking for more yellow hues.”

“You and your girlfriend are the biggest pains in my ass,” Lamb sneers, unamused by paint humor. “And right now, I want to go over recent events with you. I catch this guy, you fuck me over by finding evidence that he couldn’t have done the crimes. Then, when I get him again, you get yourself arrested and beat the shit out of him.”

“You got him because I hired Van Lowe to catch them and bring them here,” Logan snarls. “Otherwise, they’d probably still be on the lamb.”

“And here we go again, about how incompetent I am, when you and little Miss Mars are why they were out in the first place,” he sneers, and points. “You are the ones who fucked up here, not me. And you are the one who make those two look more sympathetic because you decided to fuck them up instead of letting me do my job.”

Logan clenches his jaw. Slides his arms down onto the table. Swallows all opinions about Lamb and how well he does his job. “You done riding me? I’ve got a girl to get back to.”

Lamb shakes his head, and stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “Call McCormick. Call anyone who will come down to the station and pick your sorry ass up. And then get out of my sight while I figure out how to salvage my case from your screw ups.”

“Maybe if you’d ever actually solve the case yourself,” Logan can’t keep himself from shouting, “we wouldn’t have to do everything ourselves.”

“Hey, Richie Rich,” Lamb turns back, and pushes his way into Logan’s space, leaning over him. “This isn’t a hobby, okay? This is my job. Which I was elected to do. I’m not going to go off and pursue some fool crusade just because. Not in this town. I do my job. You and your girlfriend’s band of troublemakers? You’re just pissing in the fucking wind.”

He steps back, breathes. “Sacks will come and get you when your ride comes. If anyone wants to come and get your sorry ass.” 

~~~

Charlie is the one he calls to come get him, after, because he’s not having Veronica come anywhere near Mercer and Moe and he’s still not sure what to do about Dick.

When Sacks leads Logan out, he looks distinctly displeased, and disappointed. “Let’s go.”

Logan tenses, thrown back in middle of those few times Aaron came to claim him from somewhere or another. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he climbs into his brother’s truck. “You can just drop me at the house.”

“No,” Charlie snipes from the driver seat. “First you’re going to tell me if this is a frequent thing. And if not, what the hell you were thinking?”

Logan shrugs, huddles down in his seat, feels every bit the nineteen year old he is. Like he has someone other than another nineteen year old to answer to. “They drugged Veronica. Twice. They went after her, so -”

“You can’t be slugging it out whenever you’re angry,” Charlie parents.

The resentment builds. “I don’t. I am angry. All the time. And I keep it in check. All the time. But that guy was a friend of mine, and he went after the only person who means anything to me.” 

He doesn’t tell Charlie that this isn’t the first time a friend has hurt Veronica, that he hates how he can’t tell who would and wouldn’t do that. How he hates himself for bringing these people into their lives, for exposing her like this to those who would do her harm. He doesn’t tell Charlie that he blames himself for most of the shit that has happened to her. He doesn’t tell Charlie any of that, because Charlie doesn’t know what’s happened to her.

Charlie huffs in obvious frustration. “So this was what? Vigilante justice?”

Logan turns away from him, as far as he can. “Something like that.”

“You have to trust that they’ll get what’s coming to them, Logan. You have to believe that -”

“What?” Logan spits back. “That justice will be served? My father killed my girlfriend. He tried to pull a repeat with Veronica. And he got away with it. The only thing that stopped him from doing anything more was someone putting a bullet through the back of his skull.”

Charlie stares. Logan thinks again about the things he told not-Charlie, pears and belts and fists. He thinks about the world Charlie lives in, where the authorities are people to have faith in instead of people who can be bribed to go away. Where the bad guys get what they deserve instead of running the show. Logan can’t remember when in his life he believed that. He feels so much older than his brother in that moment.

“That was a fluke,” Charlie finally verbalizes. “It was a miscarriage of justice.”

Logan just grunts. “Let me tell you what’s awaiting Mercer and Moe. They’ll probably plea bargain out, because the prosecution doesn’t want to parade a bunch of traumatized women onto the stand to be berated and questioned by a defense attorney. They’ll say it’s for the good of those victims, but it’s really because they don’t want to risk losing the case, and this one has enough loose strings to really hog tie them. Maybe they serve a little bit of time,. And then they’ll get out and have to register as sex offenders, and at least Mercer will probably be able to explain that away as a girl who cried wolf when he was a lamb, and that’s it. That’s the great end to all this. That’s your justice.”

“You’re too young to be this cynical.” Charlie sighs, turns on the truck. 

Logan looks at him from his seat. “No. I’m just old enough.”

Charlie droops, and lets it go. They drive the rest of the way back to the house in silence. It hovers over them, and Logan is content to let it. To not explain anything else. To let this fester between them and drive this person away. Charlie parks, and then asks, out of the blue, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“What?”

“You and Veronica, do you guys want to come over for Christmas?”

“I don’t know,” Logan replies, stupefied.

Charlie nods. “Yeah, I figured you were already doing it with her family.”

It’s out before he can stop it. “Veronica doesn’t have a family.”

His brother startles. “What?”

“Her mom took off when we were in high school,” he reluctantly tells Charlie, omitting her brief reappearance, dragging his finger down the window. “And her dad was killed in a plane crash right after graduation.”

Charlie looks a bit sick. “Oh. I’m sorry.” Pauses. “That explains a few things.”

Logan gives him a sidelong glance. “Like what?”

The other guy shifts uncomfortably. “She’s a bit... Brittle.”

Logan laughs joylessly. “No. She’s been like that since after Lilly.” He doesn’t expound. Charlie looks like he wishes he never said anything. Logan continues. “I’ll see what we’re doing for Christmas. Give you a call.”

Charlie gives a little cough. “Are you going to tell her what you did?”

Logan shrugs. “Knowing Veronica, she’s already been informed. Thanks. For the ride. And the invite.”

Charlie nods. “Yeah. I’d say ‘any time’, but I don’t really want to get that call again.”

“Don’t worry,” Logan tells him as he clambers out. Closes the door. Leans through the window. “My usual call’s to Ronica. I just didn’t today because... Well, you know.”

Charlie looks less than pleased with that parting shot, but he doesn’t care. He’s got a girl to see. He pats the door once, and jogs up the path. Walks in the front door and finds more than just Wallace in his living room. Piz is there, and Mac. Tamps down the frustration over Piz’s presence. Allows it to be overcome with the relief that Mac is there instead.

He ignores them all, though - the greetings and Wallace’s punch to the shoulder - and pushes into the space between Veronica and her friends. Pushes back her bangs, and sits next to her legs.

“Hey, bobcat,” he greets softly. “How you feeling?”

“Better, now that you’re back.” Veronica’s eyes are still a bit unfocused. He misses their sharpness. She takes a hold of his hands. “You need to go peroxide those.”

He leans down and kisses her head. “On it.”

He’s out of the room for barely a second when he hears Piz ask, “What’d he do? Where’s he been?”

He doesn’t hear the answer; but when he walks back in, Piz looks startled and a little uneasy. He slides in behind Veronica. He leans back, closes his eyes. “Anyone think to call Weevil?”

Veronica tenses immediately. “I thought I’d let Mercer and Moe get out of our tiny holdings and into a nice, maximum security place before I did that.”

He feels his smirk come on, fast and furious. “Afraid he’s going to punch his aggressions out too?”

She sighs, and leans back into him. He feels her forcing herself to calm down, to relax. “Something like that. I don’t need him screwing up his parole on this. I can’t get him out if he does.”

He hears someone cough uncomfortably, and of course it’s Piz. Logan feels the bit of irritation blossom into a bloom when he asks, “Parole?”

Veronica breathes in and out shallowly, like it’s too much effort to really draw in oxygen. He rubs her arms, up and down, not really sure if it’s helping or if it just makes him feel better. “A friend of mine. You’ve seen him. He works as a janitor at Hearst.”

“And he’s on parole?” Piz’s voice squeaks. He coughs, before continuing. “What’s he on parole for?”

“Murder,” Logan smirks as Piz blanches.

Veronica sighs. He can feel her rolling her eyes, and his amusement deepens. “No, just assault. He plea bargained down.”

“But he murdered someone?”

“Not, you know, personally,” Veronica slings back.

“He did personally take it upon himself to harass and bully me,” Wallace pipes up, following that with, “What? Gotta make sure my boy Piz knows all the facts when it comes to Weevil.”

“How did he even get a job at Hearst?” Piz’s face of outrage is priceless, and Logan can’t wait for Veronica to pop it. She shrugs, and he tightens his hold on her. 

“I got him one. You’ll like him,” Veronica decides over Piz’s sounds of disbelief, and Logan sniggers. She elbows him, and he just laughs harder. “You will. He’s a great guy.”

“Who just has issues with the other guys in your life,” Logan posits. “Seems like he’ll take a real liking to Piz.”

Veronica shrugs again. “Those issues are mostly separate from me. Wallace narc'd and you're, well, you. And he’s mellowed out. A little bit. Kind of. He may make fun of your hair,” she directs to Piz.

He joins in the cacophony of laughter. For the first time in a long time, since before the semester began, the weight pressing down on him has lifted. Veronica is safe, and he is home.


End file.
